


Falling

by Equinox101



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Canonical Violence, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:18:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equinox101/pseuds/Equinox101
Summary: Love can bring you to the apex of heaven, drag you down into the depths of hell. The most powerful force in the world, or so his father remarked. And his love for her caused him to fall, fall, fall...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, this is non-canon, though I have incorporated certain elements.

There was something addicting, something irresistible about Wizard Poker, or gambling games in general. They draw you in with promises, possibilities, of victory and then they tease you, throwing bits of red meat here and there and lure you deeper down the hole until you reach a secret room where a long, impenetrable curtain masks the treasure. Then you, reveling in moments of anticipation, step forward and test the fates, tearing down the concealing fabric. What awaits you is either the reward promised by your imaginations or an illusion. Yet you are never satisfied, always craving for more.

Or at least that was what most people thought about Wizard Poker. Albus Severus Potter always thought it was simply a more realistic simulation of life than Wizard's Chess - because people simply do not start on a level playing field. Oh no. You are given a trio of cards drawn from the deck by some fickle creature called fate and you play them as best as you can. Occasionally, those with shitty luck get lucky and, with a cunning mixture of deception and your opponent's stupidity, bluffing gets you through life. Other times, the cocky and confident person with the Full House gets unexpectedly upstaged by someone better, someone with a Straight Flush because there was always someone better. Then there are times when the person who can, at best, muster a Pair can only watch helplessly as his or her superiors keep on calling higher and higher shots.

Because how else can the second son of the decorated Harry Potter, the Chosen One and hero of the Wizarding World land into such a sordid state? Did he play his cards wrong? Or was he simply screwed in the first place, dealt a bad hand?

Albus Severus Potter mused about all of this as he made his way through the bazaars of Morrocco, searching for that perfect sweet spot where the Augurey's Claw is.

Den of the wretched, hive of the sinful, congregation of the wicked and the destitute. These were all names people have given it. It was a gambling parlor where outlaws and vagabonds often forayed - just what Albus needed in order to get what's bothering him off his bind. Albus reached into his pockets and wrapped his hands tightly around the Locket. It bizarrely, reassured him. Even if just a little.

29 years old - not even at the age of thirty - and it was like his life had already reached its apex, soared across the zenith. He was Icarus and his fingertips have already graced past the Sun. All that left was descent.

* * *

"Oh Albus - oh come inside me Albus. Oh - this feels so, so good." A soft, feminine voice moaned beside him. His fingers fumbled through her nimble body, feeling her curves here and there before cupping her breasts. No - strangely, they did not satisfy him nearly as much as twirling her long silver hair did. Her hair… it was always his favourite. Like platinum, dyed blue at its tips.

"Do you like this?" His voice came more raspier than usual.

She traced her fingers through his face as if admiring his reasonably attractive features. Not answering his question, she pulled him close, her lips soft and wet and eerily sumptuous. There she was, passionately kissing him. There she was, whispering sweet words into his ear, telling him he was nothing like his father and him, him telling her that he saw it as a compliment. There she was, telling him she loved him, that he was all she needed in the world. There he was, staring into her duplicitous eyes and willfully submitting himself to this illusion. There he was, inside her, complete and whole and caught in rapturous ecstasy.

* * *

Becoming an Auror seemed like a logical conclusion to the second son of Harry James Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding World. He had dedicated himself to the trajectory since as long as he could remember and his desire only intensified when he was, against all expectations save for James', sorted into Slytherin by that blasted old hat. It was the only way he could see himself measure up to his father.

His first mission involved the surprisingly mundane task of lifting a curse on a middle-aged witch's wedding ring (after his team had arrested the implicated criminal and sent the wizard to Azkaban.) Having acquired fairly extensive knowledge of curses, light and dark, fatal and non-fatal, via osmosis from Scorpius (being the nerd that he is) and hours of scouring through libraries large and small, Albus could have done it in his sleep. What transpired as his first successful task turned out to be pretty anti-climatic. It had the distinct 'meh' factor coursing through it all. Heck, it wasn't even a particularly dangerous curse; it merely caused all users of the ring to acquire permanent boils that sporadically exploded and spewed disgusting puss, which is, though inconvenient, not especially harmful.

Nevertheless, Scorpius, straight after his daily shift as a Healer, insisted that they celebrate this. At least Albus had managed to talk his best friend out of inviting other people ("Let's just keep this between us, okay?" Albus begged frantically. Scorpius ultimately relented.)

With a bottle of champagne in one hand and an opening cork in another, Scorpius beamed with happiness and pride. Then he started singing some muggle pop tune that Albus may have accidentally gotten him addicted to. Whoopsies.

"And our Albus will become a great Auror in no time at all!" Scorpius singsonged as he poured champagne for both of them."As famous as Harry Potter."

"Sweet Merlin, Scorpius, it's really no big deal." Albus was a little embarrassed. Sometimes, he wondered what he did to deserve so much praise from his best friend. "Not to mention I'm already as famous as Dad, given the ridiculous amount of coverage from the Daily Prophet."

The Daily Prophet - besides from the vast majority of Rose's Gryffindor friends, the vast majority of his own housemates who annoyed him to death, the Sorting Hat for being an old and senile fuck-up, James' owl who kept on trying to mate with his owl, his three ex-girlfriends (one dumped him for her owls, one eventually came out as a lesbian, one he ended up dumping because she kept on tailing him and refused him even the slightest personal time and space) and the list goes on and on - was quite literally the bane of his existence. It had, in the past published ridiculous articles about him. The first one was about his sorting and oh the horror of Harry Potter's son being sorted into the house of the Dark Lord, even if it all happened 19 years ago and even if most of his housemates, from his experiences, were no more or less harmful than all the other students at Hogwarts. The second one came in his third year - it provided a pathetically 'researched' piece about his close relationship with Scorpius Malfoy and speculated about his "murky future" - whatever the hell that meant. When he broke Joanna Vane's heart in his sixth year, she unleashed a tirade in an interview with the Prophet, which contained the most nonsensical allegations about him ever, including and not limited to his participation in monthly pig sacrifice rituals that involved torturing said animal before the sacrifice (she was apparently not very good at detecting sarcasm) and the fact that he was an anti-social jackass who prepared to dwell in his common room more than anywhere else (wrong: he only stayed there to avoid her and Rose, his cousin and her friend, naturally.)

"Cheers to us!" Scorpius declared.

"Yup, to us! And our poorly functioning love lives!"

"Oh Albus, will you stop being so mopey for once in your life?"

"Would I be Albus if I wasn't so mopey?"

"You'd be cheerful Albus! I think I'd prefer that."

"No you wouldn't."

"Na-uh."

A poke.

"Albus!"

Albus guffawed as Scorpius looked at him with mock-disapproval.

* * *

Her name was Delphini - or Delphi, as he would later prefer to call her - and Albus had no idea who she was or where she was from. It all started rather unassumingly. He was alone, in a cafe in Diagon Alley where journalists, students, Ministry officials and - in his case - Aurors taking a break from duty, often frequented during their more casual instances.

And there she was. Shoulder length and silver-coloured hair, wild, excitable blue eyes and a confident grin plastered on her lips. She was perched on the counter with a cup of coffee and reading a small book. Al thought she looked cute, though much too old for him, about Teddy's age, he'd wager. Scorpius had always teased him about liking older women and that circle of teasers had since then expanded into his siblings, the rest of his friends and various family members - yet the idea of striking a relationship with her had never occurred to him at the time.

Lies. Plain old lies: he was instantly attracted to her. It was this inexplicable gravitational pull or the cruel intervention of fate. The chess pieces had to be set for the inevitable fall.

He ordered a cup of spiced coffee and waited near the counter, near Delphi, who was still reading. He fixed his eyes on her - she didn't notice him marveled at the colour of her hair. Silver-blond. [More silvery than Scorpius' - a hard feat to surpass.]

Without warning, she turned towards him, grinning. He found himself smiling back, reflexively. And then his order arrived, causing him to walk towards the counter, to walk towards her.

"Here alone?" She inquired curiously.

He nodded, before shaking his head. "Sorry for the rudeness," he began. "I'm just here for some respite."

"Delphi Diggory," she replied. There was something alluring, something enigmatic about her smile. "You're an Auror aren't you? Harry Potter's son?"

There it is again: how people usually identified him - via his connection to his celebrated father.

"Yup. The younger one." He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her - no, the urge to roll his eyes at her faded away before it could manifest itself within him. There was something positively disarming about her smile. "I'm Albus Potter, pleased to meet you."

"Albus Potter…" she mused, her lips quivering in a whimsical manner, "The name as a nice ring to it."

"Eh, it's alright." He grinned. "Though it is wonderful if you like being named after dead people," he added wryly.

She let out a chuckle. "So, Albus, what brings you here?"

Conversation initiation? Success.

* * *

When Scorpius and Rose finally get together, Albus decided not to third-wheel the two lovebirds, opting to spend his night alone at a muggle club, downing shot after shot at the counter. ("-and then she said yes Albus! Can you believe it? After all these years," Scorpius piped up cheerfully.) In all honesty, while he felt genuine happiness for both his best friend and cousin, he never understood the appeal they saw in each other. During their days in Hogwarts, Rose had barely interacted with Scorpius in a way that did not involve demeaning comments (even if most of those comments were of a teasing manner or thrown casually if not innocently too) or outright anger, especially when she was surrounded by her friends. Scorpius' love, he thought, would be forever unrequited.

"Albus!"

A pity because any girl with a semblance of intelligence - sans Rose, because Rose was a fairly intelligent human being, but she was blinded in many ways - would recognize Scorpius as the perfect boyfriend and say yes in less than a minute. Albus speculated that he would have said yes, had he been a girl and had Scorpius harbored romantic feelings towards him. It wasn't as if he felt envious or bitter about the two - no - he cared about them too much to give a damn about his own feelings and -

"Albus!"

\- Besides, he did not like Scorpius. They had been best mates, they had stuck with each other all these years, subverted the wizarding world's expectations, became friends at first site and -

"Albus! Are you feeling okay?"

Albus turned around to see Delphi waving at him and making her way towards him. She was clothed in a muggle tank top and short jeans. Previously she had been dancing energetically with a group of people Albus didn't even know (and who were probably muggles too.)

"Hey, it's you," he blurted out unenthusiastically - and then immediately regretted the listless tone he conveyed. "I mean - hey Delphi, it's great to see you here! Didn't know you liked muggle clubs."

"I don't go to them very often, but I do like to do some exploration once in a while." She grinned and sat down beside him. She was wearing a leather jacket and some light eye make up, which suited her perfectly. "Say, Albus, is there something bothering you tonight?"

"No, nothing much," he lied. "Just here to blow off some steam - its stressful being an Auror."

"You're an Auror?" Delphi asked, curious and rather in awe, her blue eyes widening. "How come that never came up when we talked?"

[Well, first things first, we've only met once. Granted, that was one very nice conversation that spanned three hours but still.]

Suddenly, all of his miseries melted; Albus no longer felt like drinking his sorrows away. "Well," he suggested, smirking a little,"I guess it takes time for people to get to know me."

She returned his smirk with a wink: "I'd gladly take the time." [Was she flirting?]

"You know, I think I've had enough drinks for the night. Mind hitting the dance floor again?" [Not that I minded her flirting.]

"Sure thing!" [She had to be flirting.]

That night, they shared their first kiss in the suffocating heat of the club, with loud and gregarious music blaring from all four sides, where the mildly revolting humidity generated by omnipresent sweating hung in the air, when everyone around was shouting and screaming. That night, Albus decided to sever whatever confusing, confounding sentiments he held towards his best friend and proceeded to sleep with Delphi in a high-class muggle hotel, which most certainly did not involve him confounding the poor muggle at the hotel counter to issue a room for free for the two of them. Delphi found it all hilarious.

* * *

"You're a Legilimens," she gasped, pleasantly surprised as Albus casually deciphered the thoughts and motives of all their fellow tables around the table. They have been dating for more than a month and he thought he would treat her to an expensive french muggle restaurant in the middle of London.

"Yes, I guess you can say so," Albus responded, faintly pleased at the element of praise he detected from her. She always seemed to know what to say to him, what made him happy, what made him feel good about himself. It was almost uncanny. Still, Albus couldn't object to any of these comments or to her presence in general - he enjoyed her company.

Ever since a very young age, Albus had developed a peculiar sensitivity to other people's opinions and judgments about him. Perhaps it had been a side effect of being the son of the famous and universally adored Harry Potter - it meant that cameras and journalists followed him and family around wherever they went, that whispers often swirled in the air around them.

Or perhaps there was more to it. James had never been particularly bothered about the celebrity gung ho that surrounded him being Harry Potter's sun, in fact, Albus would even wager that he had enjoyed and revealed in it, often using it as a leverage to propel his pranks and sociable antics to even greater heights. And neither had Lily, who had been carefree and bubbly since time immemorial. Albus was different: he's heard all the rumors, the curious and hidden sentiments lingering at the back of people's minds, the gasps and the gawking, the finger-pointing whenever people recognized him as the son-that-looks-like-an-exact-replica-of-the-father. The nasty thoughts stick out too, sharpening especially after the advent of his Sorting.

("Perhaps he's not like his father after all.")

("Dear me! What's Harry Potter going to think?!")

("He can't fly, can't play Quidditch, spends far too much time with that Scorpius Malfoy. Must be a disappointment to his family.")

("We all better watch out for that Albus Potter, there's not a single wizard who went bad that wasn't put in Slytherin.")

(Or, his favorite, "What was the Sorting Hat thinking?," to which he would turn around and respond with a deadpan: "It's turned old and senile.")

It wasn't until his second year, after a game of poker, that he realized he could read minds and that that was the reason why all those critical thoughts and mind-boggling speculations bothered him so much - because he could hear them and James and Lily couldn't.

Either way, it was both a curse and a blessing. Albus had long come to terms with it.

"Ever heard of Occlumency?" Delphi winked at him.

"Er… yes. I might have encountered the word in some esoteric Defense Against the Dark Arts reading that Scorpius read sometime in Hogwarts. He's a giant nerd and some of that intelligence rubbed off me, at least I'd prefer to think of things that way," Albus said, not aware of just how much fondness he was exhibiting.

"I think you'd be great at it," she suggested, grinning. "I mean, I know a bit of it and I just thought that it would be pretty wicked if you mastered it. It's pretty useful for Aurors, I hear."

"Sure - I mean - do you want to - would you like to teach me?" He was stumbling with words, being unexpectedly glad at what this implied: spending more time with Delphi. Unsuspecting, exhilarated, Albus had no idea of what he was getting himself into.

* * *

"You're amazing…" His voice trailed off. Truly, she was, the way she so effortlessly peeled her way into his internal world, the way she so effortlessly deflected all his psychological advances and the way she so effortlessly imparted him with the instructions about molding his own mental shields. "You're - you're a great teacher."

"You're just especially talented," she smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "And might I remind you, to do all of this in the bedroom was your suggestion. Three weeks, hmmm, it took me longer than that."

He got up, still sweating and panting from making love with her and from various acts of penetration, physical or mental. "Three weeks of great sex - totally worth it." He beamed at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief and affection.

The intensity of it all, the way their minds and bodies intertwined, the way they imparted sneak peaks of their lives to the other, the way his urges and passions erupted when their two worlds collided - he wasn't simply falling, he was plummeting down an abyss. For her.

Her lonely days under the overcast sky, the sound of the augurey's crow, the days spent on a sickbed, watching the sunrise outside of the window. She yearned for freedom and adventure.

His feelings of suffocation inside the classroom, the all-encompassing shadow of his family's legacy, his terror when standing between an entire hall of Hogwarts students, waiting to be sorted, all his moments pacing the living while waiting for his father to return from a dangerous mission, his days in the Auror's office, constantly pushing himself to take difficult tasks, hoping against hope that one day he would make his dad proud.

They saw.

Though perhaps, the exchange was always asymmetrical.

Albus never told anyone about her. Her large, dovish blue eyes, her perky mischief, her complete lack of judgement as he rambled on and on about his favorite gambling games. He wanted her all for himself - that had been his mistake in the past, hadn't it? [No that wasn't it.] Start again: he liked keeping his relationship with her secret because he know, had a strange inkling, that there was something positively illicit about the nature of their encounters and flirtations. He enjoyed being with her, their experimentations with Occlumency and Legilimency, their small talks, their heart to hearts after cocktails. If anyone else had known, he would be forced to explain things. James would start bugging him and making him come on double-dates [not happening]; Lily would squeal in delight and begin an interrogative onslaught [nope]; his parents - they needn't know about all of this; his housemates/ friends/ cousins were simply incapable of refraining themselves from making lewd statements every single minute and consequently drowning him in embarrassment (as his past three relationships have shown) and Scorpius, Albus had a feeling that Scorpius wouldn't like her. It was something he just knew.

Perhaps at a later date - yes, introductions would come at a much later date. At present, it was just him and her. No one else was needed.

* * *

Albus Severus Potter. The name hissed and rolled off her tongue so easily.

Still a boy, barely 19 years of age, with his boyish face, mischievous but perplexingly predictable green eyes, untameable jet black hair, lazy smirk. Bright, in an unconventional manner, easily the kind to go around rather than through a problem, a little unstringent when it comes to following the rules, a curious mixture of insecurity and nonchalance, full of hope and innocence, rapt curiosity and, above all else, a fierce desire to prove himself. An unquenchable thirst to live up to his cursed father's legacy, to be a worthy Auror, to make his father proud of him.

So malleable, that Albus Potter, or little Alby, as he let her call him - three months into their relationship - he was so, so malleable. That boy was a sponge that greedily soaked up every bit of knowledge she imparted him, even as she casually slipped in a few touches of Dark Magic here and there - she would start slow and proceed gradually until he had been irrevocably suckered into that murky abyss. Then that silly boy had gladly reciprocated by telling her everything about him: his childhood, his family, his friends, his interests... Dull. But maybe not so dull. He was trusting, yet at the same time, so wary and unsure of himself. Countless times, she had to play the role of the encourager, nudging his confidence in just the right direction - whichever direction she deemed worthy.

Corruptible. Five months after meeting the boy and worming her way into his life, she realised just how impressionable, how eminently corruptible he was.

The first month after their encounter at the nightclub, which she judiciously elected to enter after weeks of covert information gathering on Albus' habits, was spent mindlessly in a bout of courtship. He had thought he was the one taking the initiative, the one pining after her [how cute], when in reality, it had all been in her design. Seeds of trust, seeds of infatuation, seeds of a relationship were carefully planted as she smiled sweetly at him, looked interested when he spoke about his best friend [Scorpius Malfoy - very useful - remember for later] and pretended to stumble drunkenly onto him. The next couple of months were spent on typical dates: in coffee shops, in shopping malls, in Christmas markets (he had kissed her as the fireworks in the air proclaimed the advent of a new year and told her he loved her) and in idiotic muggle aquariums. Then things started to get interesting. After witnessing her perform an act of magic, he had flirtatiously asked if he could practice with her, if she could help him improve with spells. Naturally, she agreed. They would spend hours enacting various quirky situations. She pretended to be a cranky old witch once, which really stretched her acting skills, as he disarmed her and jumped on her and kissed her passionately. Then she offered to show him a few spells that would come in handy. Spells that always pushed the boundaries of legality and acceptability for people of his profession.

"Oh Albus, stop doubting yourself. You are very good at this." Then he casts a 'sectumsempra' at a rat and recoils in terror as blood splurges out of its lacerated carcass. I must have done something wrong Delphi. Or: this is all... within the realm of legality, right Delphi? Nothing bad, right Delphi?

It was rather adorable. Her eyes would wilfully widen in shock and then she would proceed to shake her head and tell him that this was, indeed, a spell that induced great physical pain, but that it was also useful when it came to saving your skin the last minute or retribution upon truely reprehensible beings - for they existed. Albus had agreed with her, told her that as compassionate and forgiving and damned noble his father was, Harry Potter was the kind to exhibit sympathy for the devil, to let go highly risky individuals in acts of mercy.

Mercy was a luxury for the strong and a liability for the weak, he told her - and he willingly admitted his limited abilities then and there.

"Murder," she slipped it in during one of their conversations, one of their dates in a fancy restaurant overlooking the River Thames (it was rather nice of Albus to suggest that place - clueless, foolish little Alby), "Do you think you'd ever bring yourself to kill someone?" It was framed in a whimsically philosophical way, in the midst of a conversation they had about the meaning of life and death, about whether their lives and other people's lives meant anything at all in the broader cosmos of the universe -after she bored herself with hours and hours of listening to him complain about his lack of direction in life, angsting about not knowing what he wanted and feeling lost from time to time.

"No," he answered quickly and defensively. But she had seen through his flicker of doubt, the way his eyes shifted ever so slightly.

A weapon, a useful tool. Delphi had never so much batted an eye at Albus' saccharine words and all the care he had for her, but he would be, at the end of the day, an indispensable weapon to her, she was sure. With him, she could hurt Harry Potter more than her father ever could at the height of his power. And there is a certain fondness she developed for him, as one would develop for a cherished weapon. One day - and the day will come when she would use him against everything he loved (but her), where his world would be reduced to nothing (but her.) Then she would have her revenge and build her world anew, on top of the ashes. She would finish what her father started.

But for now, it was play time. She was growing rather fond of her toy.

Soon, she would teach Albus the Unforgivables. Yes, soon. It would come easier than anticipated, she wagered. In spite of his self-professed beliefs about refraining from morally questionable tactics, he had never been particularly stellar at practising what he preached. He wasn't unkind, oh no, he was amicable enough, emphatic most of the time, no doubt aided by his uncanny talent for Legilimency, even compassionate. He would feel bad for her if she told him about her being an orphan. Yet tucked someone in his personal psyche, there it was: shaky morals, strongly tied in with his disregard for rules.

She would slip it in someday, unsuspectingly, after hours and hours of pointless small talks, days at mind-boggling muggle amusement parks, nights at mindless muggle clubs.

She had to be more subtle - she felt signs of suspicion creeping through him. He was starting to realize that, perhaps, perfect and perky and encouraging Delphi was not so innocent at all, that there was a hidden danger about her. He did nothing about it. Strange, his attitude towards her, his, dare say, infatuation towards her. He was practically emanating it. Perhaps, perhaps he knew there was something wrong about her but didn't care at all, perhaps he willingly ignored the red lights and impulsively tread onto the forbidden.

Love, love could compel individuals to do peculiar things. It could propel you to heaven or drag you straight to hell.

And Albus was falling, falling, falling.

* * *

"Is there something wrong? Albus, are you even kidding, is there something wrong? Of course there is! You're hiding something from me - and don't you pretend otherwise - I know you better than you think I do, I know you too well - you're my best friend for Merlin's sake! Why can't you simply realize that I'm trying to help-"

"Help me with what?"

"Don't you deny anything Albus - we're spending less time together, we're growing apart and I-"

"Look, here's the deal. You're dating Rose, which I'm perfectly cool with and I'm- "

"For the last time, stop making this all about Rose! It's you - and - and Delphi - I don't trust- there's something wrong about her. I can't pinpoint exactly what but I think you're about to make a very big mistake by - you're cutting all of us off-"

"What about her?"

A withering glare. Normally, that would have convinced anyone else to back off, to let Albus Potter have his way - but Scorpius Malfoy was not just anyone. Albus Potter was his best friend - someone that meant so, so much to him, a friend he could simply not do without. Albus had known about his crush on Rose all along; Albus had been the first person he had told when Rose finally said yes after all these years. 6 months: it took 6 months for Albus to reveal his relationship, which made Scorpius feel rather betrayed. 10 months into it and his friend was drifting away further and further.

"All I'm saying is that ever since you've been together with Delphi, you've been colder towards me. We used to tell each other everything."

A crooked brow, a wry grin. "Oh Scorp, don't be ridiculous. You always overthink things..."

It would all be fine. Just a wrinkle.

* * *

Little Alby was always so needy, Delphi mused as he knocked on her door. She quickly slipped away her copy of the Secret of the Darkest Art, which she obtained through many difficulties in the black markets of Knockturn Alley, somewhere Little Alby had so helpfully (and cluelessly) suggested when she asked him about places that sold rare, obscure literature. Being an Auror evidently had its perks.

Saturday nights were date nights, or so he had insisted in his typically needy manner. He had come to fetch her for a meal at a particularly fancy restaurant he had picked. How considerate.

Then afterward, she would stay the night over at his place, where they would fuck each other senseless. It was always her favourite part - he was good at what he was doing, she would admit. The way their tongues intertwined, the way his nimble fingers graced her body and the way she reciprocated him, the way his swollen and hardened cock shoved its way inside of her.

He was a most amusing creature, so loving, so clever, so infatuated, so devoted, always something that could deliver the pleasures of the flesh to her. Indeed, she just might spare him, spare him and put him right beside her throne.

After all, her plans were going on nicely. Euphemia Rowle had assisted her in contacting previously scattered Death Eater remnants, their descendants, as well as anyone who was sympathetic to her cause of restoring the dignity and supremacy of pureblooded wizards and witches - of course, times have changed so perhaps she would allow a degree of flexibility in blood status. Their loyalties would take time to cultivate, but it was all rolling on nicely.

It was now time to progress to the next step, follow the path set by her father.

* * *

Being the son of Harry Potter came with its annoyances. Being the son of Harry Potter while working as an Auror came with even more annoyances.

First, there were the cliched assumptions from presumptuous colleagues, dressed up behind a facade of politeness. Bet you daddy got him the job and the promotion, bet you that he wouldn't last another year, bet you that he couldn't do it. All while they smiled and nodded as he walked by. Sometimes, even wry smiles were too hard to maintain - but Albus was trained well from birth to put up with insipid pleasantries.

Then there were those who were sycophantic to the point of idiocy. The second coming of Harry Potter, they say, a wizarding prodigy and hero just like his father - Albus didn't mind the saccharine praise, even if it can get a bit much. What he absolutely resented were the constant, shameless attempts by some to ingratiate him. Even more insufferable were the occasional idiots who, during tasks and assignments and scouting excursions, would declare that they could leave everything to Albus, who would most certainly solve everything. Needless to say, after much angry barking each repetitive time, none of these suggestions went through.

There were also people who wouldn't stop asking him why he wanted to be an Auror - and then not so subtly direct the conversation to his father. Oh Albus, so how was it like, growing up with Harry Potter? Did you become an Auror to please your father or to prove yourself? Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Some of these questions hit a little too close to home.

Finally, there was Harry Potter, the man himself. It was a little odd to work for your dad, Albus would admit after Delphi asked. Albus loved his father very much - the two have always shared a close bond since he was young - and Albus _did_  go through Auror training because he admired his father so much, a fulfillment of a childhood dream perhaps, a plea for validation. That said, the man loved to make dad jokes at work in front of his colleagues, which would often result in plenty of teasing.

Anyhow, career-wise, Albus's life was going on smoothly. As of now, he had been assigned four other junior Aurors - Isadora Bones, Cynthia Lang, Don Brenton and Loris Hicks - and a partner, Thomas MacLaggen, his very own team. They were tasked with solving the murder of an elderly shopkeeper who worked at an antique shop near the edge of Knockturn Alley.

Albus was surprised, initially, to discover the concern this case aroused. It had been a while since the last death caused by a Killing Curse went on the Aurors' radar - but the shop was situated in a haven for crime. Robberies, illegal dealings, fistfights, magical duels were far too commonplace there. There had to be more to this, dark secrets, important possessions perhaps.

The Auror's office had long kept a myriad of files and reports on the situation of Knockturn Alley, which would be constantly updated each day. Albus had two of his Aurors skim through files in the past that pertained to the murder victim. His two other colleagues would deal with locating magical traces, of the victim and other potential suspects. That was their specialty.

In the meantime, he knew he needed to pay a visit to the shop itself.

* * *

There was something unsettling about Delphini Diggory. Albus had finally relented, apologised profusely and introduced Scorpius to her. He admitted being a jackass, an antisocial prick and a jackass. Scorpius sighed and assured Albus that it was all okay. Then they had some very nice butterbear and played Exploding Snap.

And for a while, everything was all okay. Until he met Delphi. There was something strange about her, something almost eerie. Her smile was too sweet, her laughter too high, her eyes too brilliant, her temperament too bubbly. The manner she adopted when she nodded appreciatively at everything Albus said and nudged him gently when he seemed to feel discouraged (Albus, in spite of all his strengths and in spite of being the wonderful person he is, was frequently -unjustifiably - unsure of himself.)

She was too perfect, a caricature of the best girlfriend in the world with a human face carved on it. Scorpius had an uneasy curiosity about when the mask would fall - and what lay beneath it.

From Albus' accounts, Scorpius knew they were practicing magic together. On principle, there was nothing wrong with that and yet Albus never specified what they were doing and, for some reason, that did not reassure Scorpius.

They had known each other for years, long enough for Scorpius to sense that something was off. But of course Albus would never admit it: he laughed off everything with a nonchalance that Scorpius knew was phoney. ("Damn Scorp, you gotta stop worrying about me and start worrying about your lack of... physical progress with Rose - hey! Okay, sorry, sorry, yeah I know you two have done it already but who's to say that some experimentations won't - okay okay, I'll stop. I'm cool though, take a chill pill mate.")

It was during times like this that he wished he had Albus' talents in Legilimency; if only he could gain a more specific of understanding about his best friend's experiences. The details, the lack of details imbued him with a feeling of foreboding.

* * *

"You are gathered here tonight for a noble cause," she declared at the head of the table, her smooth, slithering voice sliding over the individuals in the room, all hooded and concentrated on her. "For too long, our cowardly Ministry, our filthy blood traitors, the fifth column of the society known as the muggleborns have tarnished the dignity of respectable Wizarding society. How long are we going to let muggleborns flood our streets? How long are we going to let their insidious customs infiltrate in our midst? How long before Wizards are no longer Wizards? How long - my brothers and sisters - will you stand for this?"

Fists pumped up in the air as raucous applause rang through the chamber. Euphemia Rowle had always told her that her syle of speaking was more... emotionally rousing than her fathers, tinged with the flair of a rowdy populist. That suited her fine. She was not her father (just as he was not his.)

The questions, tedious and annoying, then came. How many supporters do we have? When do we start acting? What is a cell phone?

If only little Alby were here. He would have made the snarkiest comments about the mass of easily manipulated idiots and brightened her night, not to mention he would have scowled and dissuaded a lot of the unwelcomely infatuated stares by her delusional followers. But not yet. Now was not right to introduce him to her cause. He is still too loyal to his family. She needed slow progress.

She was still making progress, even if the latest steps had been vexingly derailed - but she need not worry. She knew she would get her hands on it when time came.

"How do we deal with Harry Potter and his lot?" A mook asked bluntly, staring stupidly at her with his mouth drooling.

"We have a secret weapon." Her lips curled into a poisonous smile.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come in," offered a raspy voice.

"Mr. Wilkins," Albus spoke with a calm amicability, still hooded and concealing his identity for the moment, "May I speak to you?"

"That depends..."

A hint of wariness. Fear perhaps.

\- death, gruesome corpses, running, heartbeats raised, poisonous green light-

"My apologies, I was merely looking for a few... objects of interest." A digression first, in order to engage him in conversation. Start small.

"Well, we happen to specialize in rare antiques here, young man. Take a look around the shop."

Albus nodded as he began walking amongst the shelves, feeling the various trinkets they housed. As an aside from the mission, he pondered on their value. Most objects in such places tended to be frauds, scamming the gullible.

"That's fake," Albus said flatly as he pointed to Ravenclaw's Diadem. "It was destroyed during the Second Wizarding War."

"Well aren't you a perceptive one..." A chuckle. The shopkeeper had to keep up a pretense of friendliness. He was trying to sell something after all.

"That's also fake," Albus sighed as he held Hufflepuff's Cup and examined it in his hand. It was painful just how badly it was forged. The symbol of the badger was crudely made, as were the engraved initials of Helga Hufflepuff. "Don't you guys have anything real? Something worth buying? Something belonging to someone important-

"Do not! I don't have it!" In the split of a second, the man sounded positively terrified - and Albus knew he had found a clue.

"You know, usually people who say that tend not to be entirely truthful."

"I don't have it! I just don't-"

-flashes of green light, a whisper, Merlin's Locket, precious precious precious, invaluable, protect Merlin's Locket, don't let them get it-

"Merlin's Locket," Albus remarked with a gasp. "They were after Merlin's Locket. Sir, correct me if I'm wrong, but those who attacked your colleague, they were looking for Melin's Locket?"

Silence.

"You can trust me," Albus said as he took off his hood, "I work for the Aurors. We're investigating his murder."

"Harry Potter?!"

"I'm his son," Albus said wryly, "But close."

"I didn't know the Aurors still gave a toss about what goes on in places like this. Five robberies, seven duels and not a single word or action from them."

"I didn't either." Albus shrugged as he made his way back to the counter. "But perhaps murder was one step too far."

A snort.

"So... just what is Merlin's Locket?" Albus asked after a pause, fixing his eyes on the other man's. Don't lie to me or else I would find out (in a polite kind of way) was the message that he was trying to convey.

The old man appeared resigned at his current state, briefly contemplating on deceiving his not-so-welcome guest before finally relenting, "It conceals magical traces, the most powerful of its kind. Legend says you put it on and no one would be able to sense you, no matter who you are. You will be able to pass off as a muggle."

"And people are after it, why do you think it is that?"

"I wouldn't know I wouldn't-"

-figures in dark cloaks, forbidden rituals, cackling laughter, the dawn of a new era, new era, change, murder-

"Dark forces are rising, Sir. That should no longer be a surprise to you," Albus speculated. "And just let me say that I don't think they will leave you alone-"

-running, panting, basement, safety-

-"It's in the basement isn't it?" Albus said with barely a whisper.

Slowly, the man nodded.

"It will be safer with us - and so will you. Come with us to our headquarters. We will provide all the necessary security. We will have you answer a few questions and then a space will be provided for your safety, where you can reside until this is all resolved."

* * *

"How was your childhood like?"

It was strange that the question didn't come up earlier. They had been dating for almost a year now - well, officially, it was a bit less than that but they had known each other for a year. He had seen glimpses of her past, he could patch together a few hypotheses, but it would have been much better to hear from Delphi herself. Somehow, it only occurred to Albus to ask her now.

"Dull. You know that I'm an orphan. Unfortunately, my foster parents were never the nurturing type," Delphi said, looking rather wistful. "Well, I suppose I should be grateful for them taking me in but-"

"No, I get it," Albus reassured her that he did as his hands wandered towards hers and clutched her tightly. She seemed to enjoy it whenever he did this ad seeing her content made him feel good too. "We all have things we didn't like about growing up. It doesn't mean we don't love those who raised us."

"What didn't you like?"

"The press, the paparazzi, the attention, the stupid expectations, people trying to get close to you for the wrong reasons..."

Delphi pressed her lips against his again. "But it's all good now," she said as she eventually pulled back, cupping his face with her hands.

Albus wondered whether if his entry in her life - like hers into his - had changed anything for her at all. Did he make her happier? Would he be the one for her, or was he ultimately just a fleeting passenger in her journey of life? He hoped it was the former. It was difficult to explain but at some point, he really started picturing a future with her. Big plans. Traveling the world, settling down, buying a house, starting a family. He wondered if she saw him the way he saw her. "Delphi... what am I to you?"

"Everything."

He could tell her voice was shaking.

Was it the torrent of emotion? Was it a flicker of doubt? What was it?

He didn't dare peer into her mind, not that he was sure if he could anyway - but he wished what she said was true.

And for that moment, he told himself that it was all real.

He held her close.

Whatever he was to her, he was sure of one thing.

He was hers. All hers.

* * *

The Locket of Merlin, it was mystifying, Albus mused as he twirled it in his hands. How does one utterly eliminate the magical trace of an object? How do the intricate mechanisms function in agreement with the Common Magical Laws? It was certainly a curious case.

What's even more curious is that a shop famed for selling fake antiques of historically valuable objects was attacked and it's shopkeeper murdered, with the Killing Curse no less. It contained forged versions of relics of Hogwarts Founders, rings of aristocrats of old and dusty parchments that bespoke of ancient correspondences.

Someone was looking for rare, valuable objects.

In a twisted way, a smuggler or thief seemed like the most preferable option, the easiest to deal with. (Then again, why would a mere smuggler go through such lengths - resorting to murder - to obtain an object like this?) A mass criminal enterprise would be slightly more dangerous to deal with. The other alternatives Albus could think of, the knowledge of the images in the man's head fully implanted in his mind, sounded much, much worse.

Could it be?

Could it be some cult?

Could a new Dark Lord be rising?

Albus' first thought was to dismiss it as unlikely, but history had taught many unsuspecting wizards that the Dark is always lurking in the corner, waiting for its chance to return. As to why now, there could only be one answer: complacency. The Wizarding World was forgetting the horrors of the Second Wizarding War and safely cushioned in a new era of peace and prosperity. Many had grown soft and naive. They had assumed that the troubles had ended, been relegated to the pages of their dreary textbooks. War was for their parents, grandparents; they had and will only know peace.

Being an Auror - being in touch with the more seedy elements of society, dealing with dark forces and even putting his life on the line at times - certainly helped dispel some sense of complacency, but Albus knew that he was not completely immune either.

He needed to pay another visit to the witness.

This time under the disguise of the Invisibility Cloak... and the Locket of Merlin.

* * *

He didn't get it. They were supposed to be fine now. Him and his best mate Scorpius.

After making up for their quarrel, after meeting Delphi subsequently, Scorpius had grown distant. It was like they were drifting apart irreversibly, all the years used to forge their friendship seemingly made naught. Their daily meetings and exchanges - in spite of inhabiting the same apartment, though Albus suspected they would soon part ways - amount to a few polite nods and greetings before each went about his own business.

How did it come to this?

The worst thing was Scorpius acted as if nothing was wrong. As if it was perfectly normal, what they were both doing.

It was jarring.

There were flickers of moments when Albus doubted his own judgment. He told himself that he was most definitely overthinking everything, that they were both busy with their own lives, jobs and girlfriends and this really was nothing to worry about.

He was after all, far too engrossed in his career at the moment, which was accelerating exponentially. Out of his class of graduates, he had the best record. He had just been promoted. His life pretty much revolved around his cases - and Delphi. There was simply no time for reprieve.

If only.

There were short, brief interludes to this state. For instance, one, when Rose came over, the three chatted amicably over hot chocolate and, in that brief state of being, Albus managed to convince himself that everything was okay. And then the next day they would stop speaking again.

Albus had no idea whether Scorpius was intentional or not. He had never looked into his friend's mind - they never made any formal vows about it, but Albus made it a point of principle to never infringe on Scorpius' privacy. Besides, the guy would probably detect and intrusion anyway and, being a decent Occlumens, stood the chance of repelling any mild acts of legilimency.

If-

"Albus, are you okay?"

"Del- oh, it's you." Albus spun around to greet his sister.

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint, I'm not your girlfriend," Lily snorted. "But for real, are you okay? You seem... disorientated."

"I'm never disorientated," Albus retorted defensively.

"Something is bothering you," Lily declared.

His sister knew him too damned well. They were siblings after all.

"You're quite obvious when you brood, much more than you think," Lily quipped.

"How you wound Lilypot," Albus said, eyes rolling.

"Still that name?"

"It suits you." Albus shrugged nonchalantly as they walked down the streets of Diagon Alley.

"How's being promoted to a team-leader going for you? Any pesky little Aurors bothering you? How's Don?" Lily's stream of questions never seemed to stop.

"Oh Don... are you still dating that insufferable twerp?"

"Albus be nice!"

"He's alright - in terms of ability. I just can't stand him when he opens his mouth-"

'Albus!"

"- and living with him is practically like being exposed to toxic gas all the ti-"

"That I will have to concur."

"See? I'm right? And imagine how it would be like in bed - in the heat of the moment - when both of you are having-"

"ALBUS!"

He grinned and ruffled her hair, much to her dismay. "Just kidding Lilypot, you do you."

"Don't overwork yourself, Albus. Also, James wants to meet your girlfriend!"

* * *

_The observer is lodged safely inside, surveying the exterior through a miniscue pigeonhole._

_"Give it to us!" A gruff voice declared, threatening a frail, shivering old wizard who was lying prostrate on the ground._

_"I... I..." The man tried to get up._

_"Stand down you lowly half-blood!"_

_A kick._

_"Please, if you may let me explain - we really don't have what you people are looking for-"_

_A smack in the face._

_The movement had caused such force that the sleeves briefly revealed the assaulter's bare skin._

_A tattoo._

_The skull and the serpent._

_"Lie to me again and I will end you!"_

_"I don't know what you are talking about-"_

_"LIES!"_

_"-please, you have to-"_

_"LIES!"_

_"-just who are you guys? Neo-Death Eaters?"_

_"The Sons of Walpurgis sends its regards."_

_A flash of sickly, poisonous green._

* * *

"I never liked overcast days," Delphi had murmured sleepily the day after one of their late night trysts.

Indeed, it was never pleasant for one to emerge out of bed and be greeted by a leaden sky. It was like day had not fully arrived.

"Tell me about it," Albus grinned as he quickly donned his clothes. A casual T-shirt and some jeans. It was the weekend so he did not have to go to work just yet. The investigation so far was going on smoothly, they had obtained all the information they needed from the witness, which only confirmed his theory, which he would have to inform his father, which would like to a host of -

He still had plenty of time to kill with his girlfriend.

"I hated the crow of the Augurey too... such an awful sound," Delphi whispered, this time more clearly.

"And yet you have an Augurey tattooed on your back," Albus mused, brushing his hands over her bare back and then wrapping them around her waist. He planted a kiss on her neck.

"It's sort of a reminder," Delphi said. "I... never mind."

"It's okay, you can tell me anything..."

"No, I mean, as much as I hated its sound, the tattoo looked pretty damned nice," Delphi chuckled.

"Whatever you say," Albus sighed before kissing her again.

* * *

"Dad, from all your years of experience, do you have an inkling as to why would someone go through all the lengths to obtain a mere object? Sure, it was a rare object with a lot of history behind it, but still an object. So, why? Why would anyone attempt murder to get their hands on it?"

Albus was in his father's office, reporting on the most recent findings of their mission. There were cracks in the evidence. Things almost added up but the crucial strings of connection fell short, became entangled with themselves and ceased to lead him to that final piece of clue.

He could see his father's brows furrowing, scouring the deepest depths of his memory and - out of pure intuition, for Albus would never dare to disrespect his father and venture into the man's mind - Albus sensed something was holding the man back. There was territory the man wasn't willing to venture. Hesitancy.

"The Sons of Walpurgis."

Harry frowned even further and looked up from his desk, eyeing his son directly.

"Dad, the attacker - he said 'The Sons of Walpurgis send their regards.' There is reason to believe - there is a case to be argued for at least, that some criminal organisation connected a Dark Lord is rising-"

"Albus," Harry interrupted him mid-sentence, "That was a very serious allegation you just made. We don't want to spread this kind of information without substantial evidence. However, I will grant that-"

"The man had a Death Eater tattoo. I saw it when I... paid a visit to the witness."

Harry sighed. "Even still, he could have simply been a Death Eater turned common criminal-"

"That is a possibility, but there's just a - call it sixth sense if you will that there's more to this. The Locket of Merlin- " Albus took it out of his pocket and showed his father, who frowned.

"Did you take-"

"They were after this very locket. According to the witness, an assistant to the shopkeeper, it could conceal all signs of magic on its wearer, passing them off as muggles or making them untraceable. At least that's what I've gathered so far and my colleagues, through their own research, have discovered that it was lost in history-"

"Albus, did you take this locket from the witness, without informing any of your colleagues?" Harry finally managed a successful interjection. The man was serious, his tone visibly unamused, unhappy even.

"It's safer with me-"

"Albus-"

"You're diverting-"

" _Albus_ -"

"Alright, you can have it." A slam. His father was missing the point and frustration gripped him, worming its way into his bones. "There you go."

"Albus, in any other circumstance, this would have been grounds for a category one rebuke from me but seeing as you possess good intentions and considering the severity of the situation, count yourself lucky."

"Why would anyone go after this? Rare objects in general?" Albus asked bluntly, ignoring his father's words. It seemed urgent; there was no time to waste. "Why would potential Dark Lords - to disguise themselves! It must be, right?"

There was no response from his father, who still appeared to be deep in thought. Albus had long learned that there was no point in luring an answer, for Harry was far too experienced in these matters to grant that.

If his father wanted to say something, then all the better.

If his father was holding information back, Albus would find out himself.

* * *

Having a girlfriend who was a private contractor for an intelligence service had its perks, Albus was only beginning to realise that. Delphi seemed to know everything. Secrets mundane and bizarre, illicit and banal. After all, she had imparted plentiful knowledge onto him, taught him useful spells that saved his life, slipped a few clues that sealed crucial cases and, most importantly, made him believe himself.

There were times when Albus momentarily wavered, a small quivered that barely raised any hairs. But in these moments, doubt occurred.

Was it right?

Was it right for him to forcefully wrench the information out of the resistant old man's mind - even if, at that time, he was dealing with a missing child? Was all the tortuous actions worth it? Should it have been done?

Was it right for him to hide the details of a case from his colleagues and venture into Knockturn Alley on his own?

Was it right for him to fraternize with the bar owner at that dingy place at the corner street?

Was it right for him to maim the attacker, beyond the usual Stunning Spells, that one time when the woman had tried to get away? All her bones were broken by a brutal spell and Albus did not glance at his teammates' faces. There was no need at the time. The consequences of her stealing that crucial parchment from the Department of Mysteries would simply be too unthinkable.

Would it ever be right for him to kill another man or woman? For the greater good?

Would it?

That was a question he could never bring himself to answer.

He simply did not know.

The philosophical ponderings on the value of life, of good and evil, of justice and injustice, were all too abstract for him to relate to.

"Something's bothering you."

There she was again, kissing him and wrapping her arms around his back and making him feel okay again, dispelling all his sources of irritation.

"A case," Albus muttered. "It's important - and I think my father is hiding something from me."

She gently turned him around to face her. "I might be able to help. My boss has a lot of useful documents I can poach."

"The Death Eaters," Albus said, "I need to know what was behind them."

* * *

Marveling at her ability to find out just about anything, Albus grinned as he sat down beside her on his own bed. This time around, she was over at his flat.

"I know what you want to know," Delphi explained, and did he or did he not notice a mysterious smile on her, a sweet, illicit confession, forbidden knowledge shuddering through her veins as her small body quivered ever so slightly against his, "But first things first, cast a charm around this room. We don't want anyone outside hearing about it."

It wasn't as if Scorpius would care. These days, they barely acknowledge each other with a nod. After work, he would go back to their shared apartment, avoiding any human contact and lodge himself in bed, being exhausted and drained and sapped of the will to interact. Albus had no idea precisely when things went so bad, but it seemed difficult for him to conjure a scenario where things are salvaged. Perhaps such is the course of life, people drifting in and people drifting out - only some people are out of mind, but not out of sight.

"Done." A smirk.  _Don't let her see what's inside of you._

"Have you ever heard about Horcruxes?" Delphi whispered as her blues eyes locked onto his green eyes. There was a tranquility between the two media of exchange, but Albus could sense a ripple in the surface. He knew this feeling, this premonition that Delphi would introduce something ... ominous to him again - no, not ominous, illicit, forbidden, maybe. Delphi could never be ominous to him.

"As a matter of fact, no."

"Your father never mentioned anything about it?"

"No, should he have?"

"Well, I supposed it made sense. Horcruxes, Albus, from what I've read, are the darkest, foulest magic one can possibly conceive," Delphi explained after taking a deep breath, as if the very pronunciations shook her to the core. "They essentially help one achieve... immortality. They do that because a portion of the soul is encased within it. If the body was destroyed, part of the soul remains in the mortal realm and thus one cannot die."

"What are you on about? How-"

"Shh..." She placed a finger against his lips, ushering him to be quiet. "Murder, Albus, murder is what tears the soul, for it is a violation of nature, to so willingly wish for someone's death and remain without remorse. Then, a spell is cast and a foul ritual initiated to permanently lodge one's soul in the object of one's choosing. And the reason I'm telling you this?" - she seemed to catch the puzzlement in his features - "These Horcruxes - they were exactly what kept the Dark Lord alive. Your father had to destroy them one by one by one..."

"Are you suggesting someone was trying to make the Locket of Merlin into a Horcrux? But why - why couldn't they just use any random thing if they wanted to make one - their grandma's underpants, a nameless pebble in the ocean, their wedding ring - why this?"

"My guess is, perhaps, a desire for grandeur? After all, no self-respecting Dark Lord or Lady would turn their grandmother's underpants into a sacred relic."

Albus chuckled. "You have a point. There's also the fact that the Locket masks all magical traces, including malicious influences Hocruxes must emit. Still, this is just dumb, picking such a monumental object, so obvious, so predictable. Self-delusion appears to be a common trait amongst the many Dark Lords of the past. And self-righteousness. And bouts of confirmation bias."

Delphi cracked up too.

"No matter," Albus continued, "The Locket is in safe hands and we're close to rounding in on the suspects. All will be fine."

And they made more love.

* * *

Another night out with his beloved girlfriend. Butterbeers on the table, faces lit up and engrossed in each other's sight and scent.

Truly, by now, Scorpius could ascertain that Rose Weasley was the single most important individual in his life and no one would ever measure up to that. Back in the day, back when they were still in Hogwarts or when they were still fresh out of Hogwarts, perhaps Albus Potter rivaled her - heck, even surpassed her in terms of people he cared about - but these days were long gone. Now it was only Rose.

"By the way, how's Albus doing? Lily says he's stressed about work and still as smitten with Delphi as ever," Rose, out of the blue, just had to ask him.

They had not interacted much, though Scorpius would like to think that it was mostly the result of both of them being too absorbed in their own careers and love lives. Delphi. He sensed something earlier in the week, a rather sinister presence in their flat - though he never found the opportunity to bring it up to Albus - that bordered on speculation and intuition. It was this feeling that foul magic was at work, that beneath the sweet whispers he could seemingly sense from the other side - okay, mostly imagine - that beneath them, lurked an ulterior motive.

Something was wrong with Delphi. Something had to be. Amidst the alabaster moonlight, foreboding dawned on Scorpius again.

"Delphi," Scorpius uttered, "Albus is all heads over her. I wouldn't be surprised if he killed a man for her." He tried to switch to a humorous tone, but quickly attempted to withdraw after realising just how clunky and inappropriate it was. Still, the damage was done -

"Oh Scorpius don't say that!" Rose complained. "My cousin's a bit like that! He gets all obsessed with each romantic partner or target and goal. He just needs some breathing space and support from us."

"I don't like her," Scorpius admitted, "She gives me a bad feeling."

"Well, she's going to be around a lot now that she's dating Albus so you better get used to her. Besides, she was fine when we met up together, wasn't she?"

There were not point in disputing Rose, for he did not have any concrete evidence to substantiate his refutations. Anyhow, he did not want to ruin the atmosphere of their date either by dwelling on things they could not change. It was a night between them and them only. Besides, Albus seemed happy, albeit stressed, and as long as Albus was happy, everything would be alright.

* * *

Ambition has often been described as the downfall of many humans. Yet where would we be without it? We are irrevocably drawn to it because it offers purpose, meaning and excitement in life; it then compels us to cast away complacency – and the secure things we care about. Sometimes we climb so high along the ladder and the epiphany hits us: what was the point of it all? All of a sudden, doubt creeps over you. Why at all? Mankind's progress is but a string of ambitions, mankind's failures and tragedies – war, greed, envy – all the result of ambitions too. Like an ouroboros, we circle around ambition, devouring ourselves while making our way to the future. It's never enough to doom us, never enough to save us.

And where does love - Eros, the libido, passion, gentleness, company - fit into all of this?

Albus knew he was driven by ambition; after all, that was what ultimately landed him in the house of green and silver. Yet there was a certain nebulous quality to it as - motivated as he was - he was perpetually engulfed in a directionless quest for meaning. He knew where he wanted to next, but never the final destination. He knew what success tasted like, what failure tasted like, namely something that made success even more delectable, yet the overall purpose was lacking, a nameless blob on the menu. All his life he was driven by the desire to live up to his name, to become a person in his own right and yet here he was, rising through the ranks of the Auror department and feeling as lost as ever.

When Delphi entered his life, Albus started caring more about other things. Sure, he had friends - ex-friends perhaps - that he had cared deeply about, siblings he loved and a couple of ex-girlfriends that he pleasured his days with, but Delphi felt different. It was like she cured part of his malaise of meaninglessness. That whenever he was with her, his life goals suddenly didn't matter anymore. That he can confidently shout and scream on the top of his voice - not that he ever would - to hell with this life! He was free, free and contented.

In the midst of his contemplations, which elicit a feeling of light euphoria in his head, the door to the living room creaked open and Scorpius entered it alone. Their eyes met and he gave a polite nod, which Scorpius returned tepidly. No luck of conversation tonight it is. Momentarily, Albus wondered whether it was worth it to at least give things a try. Start with a: how are you? How have you been? Feel like grabbing some hot cocoa or firewhisky - if you're feeling it tonight - and belt out our sorrows? At least tell me how things are with you? We've known each other for more than ten years and this is all you can muster after we've been like this for months? Where did it all go where did all-

The door to Scorpius' room shut.

Perhaps a night of whiskey alone would suit him just fine. He was not really close with his colleagues, who were always friendly at work, but not people he would sporadically invite over. He always had an inkling that they respected him as a colleague - some as a superior - but that there was always a sense of distance between them. Some were cordial enough to grab coffee with him from time to time or invite him over for dinner. But it just wasn't the same as it was with Scorpius.

His old friends in Hogwarts all parted their own ways. Lawrence was now in America working as a research assistant in Ilvermorny, Darius was traveling across the Amazon rainforest as a botanist, Lucas was married with two children and engrossed in family life, Cornelius was touring the world with his band...

At the ripe age of 24, Albus Severus Potter realised just how friendless he was.

He was lost. But with Delphi he was found. He was found.

His phone buzzed.

It read:

_Want to come over? ;)_

A smile on his part.

Another buzz:

_I made us cookies._

* * *

Something was bothering his colleague, Thomas MacLaggen noted. Albus was normally a very responsive, effective, assured and, at times, intimidating character. (Not that he found Albus intimidating, but some of their Junior Aurors definitely did.) Today, the guy seemed absent-minded, mildly irritable. His eye bags were showing as he perused through the most recent case files. He did not appear interested in conversation.

A shame. Thomas always enjoyed Albus' company, even though the guy can be a bit much at times. They weren't the closest of friends back in Hogwarts, where they were in different years, placed in different houses and where Albus did not appear interested at all in interacting with him. Still, the guy was decent enough once they were put in the same team. Albus was also - without question - one of the rapid risers. Being a year younger than him, Thomas was sure the guy was up for promotion again. And like most of his colleagues, he would whole-heartedly vouch that it would not be an act of nepotism.

There was something off about Albus today.

Still, he needed to start a conversation and inform the guy about a possible breakthrough.

"Albus, we have the identities of the killers. Their names are Bjarn Lovsen and Vacilius Nott," Thomas finally spoke out and handed the guy two photographs, "Here are their postulated identifications."

"Vacilius Nott... might he be related to Lawrence Nott?" Albus' eyebrows were raised as he browsed through the handouts. "Then again, most large and old pureblood families are a confusing, incestuous entanglement. Is he one of those who landed in Azkaban?"

"According to our investigations, he was previously arrested for minor offenses such as theft, possibly became radicalized through prison and then was released a couple of years ago," Thomas explained.

"I do remember... a... friend of mine - Lawrence - once told me that a wayward relative of his was sentenced into prison. Yes, that made sense. The appeal of a pureblood supremacist ideology must be considerable on a young man with little talent, future or worth other than the entirely imaginary elevations bestowed by an old bloodline."

"Well, if you choose to put things that way," Thomas said.

"There should be more of his kind. I know, I went to school with some of them."

It was weird how it all seemed so unsurprising for Albus. Like he had expected all of this.

"Also, was thinking," Thomas asked, "How does coffee this afternoon sound for you?"

Albus blinked, looking almost incredulous. "Sure, fine by me."

* * *

"We don't talk anymore," Albus - with his childishly endearing attempt to portray himself as a serious man - complained to her one afternoon. "Scorpius and I, we used to be best friends. It used to be us against the world - well, sort of, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But now we can barely manage a nod when we see each other and we still live in the same fucking house."

"Don't worry," Delphi coaxed him, "If he's meant to say in your life, he will-"

"Oh, he'll stay in my life definitely. He's off to marry my cousin Rose. Their wedding shouldn't be too far away and I must admit, him moving out would be a source of relief... I can't believe I just said that. What the hell is wrong with me-"

"It's fine Albus, it's all fine. Your reaction is perfectly normal," Delphi assured him with a sweet smile. "He doesn't understand what an amazing person you are."

"Oh, he's known me for more than 10 years, known me inside and out. If there's a shred of splendor in me, he would have long detected it-"

"Stop putting yourself down Albus!" Delphi raised her voice. "If there's anything - and I mean it - you're possibly the first person I came to love. In your life people will come and go, but - you - the person in the mirror will always remain the same. Be good to yourself. Remember to value yourself just as much as I do, alright?"

And for a brief moment, she tucked all her machinations to turn him against the people he cared about to the back of her mind and for the fragment of a second, he was the only man who truly loved her.

She scratched the thought from her mind. Love was a folly, wasn't it? Hadn't it always been what Euphemia Rowle etched into her mind ever since she had known how to walk? Certainly, Euphemia Rowle never really loved her, preferring to view her as a tool, as a weapon to resurrect a cause dear to her heart. Certainly, her henchmen did not love her, viewing her instead with fear and awe. No, the close level of intimacy, the idea that she was valued for the person she is and nothing more, only Albus could give her that.

Stop.

"I love you Albus. Please remember to love yourself too."

"I love you too, Delphi. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"... Me too."

She mentally recoiled when she realised that she completely meant it. She would be no tool to the Rowles; he was no tool of hers either, but a companion. Slowly, but surely, she could start to picture them living side by side, her waking up next to him every morning, him confiding all the issues in the world to her, him joining her with her cause, standing by her side as they took over Britain and then the world, her belling swelling with their children, who they would dedicate the world to, them growing old and marveling at what they created together... It seemed so far yet so near. Could he really join her? Could he really - given the strong shadow of his family's legacy and his personal convictions? She dared to hope.

Was it really love?

* * *

"A Horcrux. This, unknown Dark Lord was trying to make a Horcrux!"

Albus burst into his father's office in the afternoon after he, along with his colleagues, whom he spared the details of the Horcrux, connected the dots to the murder case. Unfortunately, it was, at present, also inhabited by Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, who were appearing very stunned.

"They're recruiting disaffected youth, a hodgepodge of former criminals and possibly some backers among a few select members of old pureblood families - my team are still working to identify them. There is still a chance we can nip this in the bud and prevent the whole furor surrounding Voldemort and the Death Eaters. In fact, there's a very good chance of us doing that-"

"Albus, slow down," Aunt Hermione instructed. "Harry has informed me of your findings, don't worry. And I won't be another Cornelius Fudge with his head in sand management, but we need to have a better understanding. Tell us all you know."

"The killers are Bjarn Lovsen, a wizard with Nordic ancestry and drop-out of Durmstrang, as well as Vacillius Nott. The findings have also traced their operation source to a nominally unplottable area. More than that, it appears they have received help from - according to sources in the Griffin's Bane pub - at least four other figures, whose identities are yet to be known. They all appear to be bankrolled by the Rowles. Now, the Rowles, I'm sure you all must know, were strong Death Eater sympathisers that could not be fully trialed due to insufficient evidence as well as insufficient proof of action during Voldemort's rule. We have enough evidence to conduct a raid now, I believe, if only you would authorise it. I believe may even provide evidence to prosecute the Rowles, which would be critical."

Silence swirled around the room.

"Do it," Hermione commanded.

Harry looked as if he was about to protest.

"Your son is dead serious about this."

"Your team alone may not be enough," Harry finally said, sighing with weariness. "We will have to send a larger unit and an auxiliary unit of curse-breakers. And you will need even more findings on this organisation. Our operations need to be laser-sharp."


	3. Chapter 3

Rose Weasley felt light-headed. She was getting engaged. He had gotten down on his knees, pulled out a ring and asked her to be his other half in life. Fresh from her most recent Quidditch victory as a Holyhead Harpy Chaser, with him rushing down the pitch towards her, the euphoria flushed through her.

"I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you too."

It had been a long journey. They weren't exactly close buddies in school. She had an army of admirers and he was always rather reticent to ask her out, whether due to fear of rejection, entanglements with her females or her - admittedly - short-sighted pettiness. Still, they were partly drawn together because her cousin Albus was a mutual acquaintance and they slowly bonded after Scorpius persisted languished at the Potter household during holidays. Slowly, but surely, the universe - or more like Albus and James and Lily and Hugo - conspired to bring them together.

And now all that was left was tying the knot.

* * *

 

"I'm getting engaged," Scorpius murmured to his flatmate Albus, who was musing over the coffee machine.

It had been ages since they last spoke properly. In truth, the longer it lasted, the more disheartened and disinterested Scorpius began to feel. His friend was drifting away, from him, from their mutual friends, from his old life. Albus had grown far more secretive, fare more reticient to speak about his feelings. Then there was the whole matter with Delphini Diggory, whom Scorpius still harboured mistrust for.

Days became weeks and weeks became months - until Scorpius suddenly realised he no longer knew the guy who used to be his best friend. At least not in his mind. Albus had been perpetually out and up late, pouring over work documents or being with that girl.

"Congratulation," Albus replied with a small and terse smile. "When's the wedding?"

"About half a year later."

"I see."

Scorpius no longer knew what to say anymore. Maybe this is the course of life: old friends grow apart and there was no use mourning over it. Still...

"Honestly, how have you been, Scorpius?" Albus inquired further, feet shifting slightly.

"I've been good."

"Only good, Merlin's pants, you just got engaged and good is the only description you could muster?"

A wry grin.

"Well, now that you put things that way, I'm over the moon."

"No really, what have you been up to recently?"

"Asides from my engagement, not much. Job is going on nicely, dined with my future in-laws a couple of times, started watching some muggle tv shows... Pretty bland really. How's your Auror life going?" Words were slowly coming out, with every breath being easier than the next.

"Um, it's been interesting. Working on a highly classified case. Potentially dangerous. Someone has been murdered and the implications are not small."

"Merlin's beard! And how far are you along the case?"

"It's progressing decently. We have the suspects. We just need to capture them. Delphi's actually been great help-"

"You told her classified details of your case?" Scorpius interrupted sceptically. That woman again.

"Now that you've put things that way, yes."

"Why, of course." A snort.

"What matters is that the information she's provided has been critical -"

"It was classified. Heck, look at how mum you are about it now."

"You know, Scorpius. I've been debating about whether to tell you this or not -"

"Stop trying to-"

"It's important. For you, for Rose, for your current family, future family. Right? Just listen to me on this for once. A Dark movement inspired by the Death Eaters is rising again. They're recruiting criminals and possibly disaffected members of old pureblood families. They may not look too kindly upon you. Be careful." Albus snapped. "Now excuse me, I have a date to go to."

Then he left the room.

* * *

 

The Ministry are a cravenly bunch, really. Uninterested in protecting wizarding interests when wizards and witches already constitute a minority in this world. Muggles have been outbreeding them since time immemorial and that itself was no problem - every elite class, after all, needs sustenance from an underclass. No, it was the fact that any pride, unapologetic pride, at being a wizard is seemingly quashed by the current government, deemed as being uncomfortably similar to the days of the Death Eaters. There were ministers openly talking about lifting the veil of secrecy and integrating with the muggles, allowing muggle shops to open in Diagon Alley - a vocal minority, but nevertheless, something that would never have been allowed back in the good old days Euphemia Rowle used to speak about. As if allowing muggleborns to enter wizarding society - and serve as Minister of Magic! - whilst ignoring the pureblood wizarding aristocracy, those whose existence and roots are entwined with magic and magic alone, was bad enough.

Seething in anger, frustration, her followers nodded as they listened to her speech. Their views are but a minority at this moment, but soon, Britain would come into agreement. The ordinary wizarding folk would come to their senses - regardless of blood origin, regardless of who they are, so long as their loyalties lie with magic - and see what the Sons of Walpurgis were seeing. Even him.

He would come around. And if he didn't she'd have other plans. But he would, oh he would.

* * *

 

"Well really, there's a saying that you never talk politics or religion amongst recent acquaintances, so I'll spare you guys my opinion on the Brazilian Magical Government's Muggleborn Integration Legislation, but yes, I have heard about it from the papers, Mr and Mrs. Diggory."

He was meeting her family for the first time. Her foster parents and adopted brother Koralius.

"Oh don't hold back on your opinions, Albus. Delphi has said you harbour a very articulate mind and strong opinions. We're basically family now, right?" Mrs. Diggory gave a warm, encouraging smile. "In our family, we thrive off debates."

"Well, I suppose I'm not in favour of it. You see, I think taking away muggleborn children away from their parents and putting them in foster homes by the age of 5 is a terrible idea. One, I see this legislation as missing the key issue, which is that muggleborns in Brazil remained marginalised in Wizarding Society. Two, separating children from their parents at 5 is bound to cause some level of trauma. Three, I'm sceptical about large-scale co-operations between Wizarding and Muggleborn governments, given that the vast majority of Wizarding governments in the recent past, Brazil's included, have largely operated separately, with either Prime Minister and President being the sole line of communication. If gone wrong, especially considering the massive scale of this, it could leave the whole Wizarding World exposed - then again, that's only the worst case scenario. I'm not Brazilian, there's a limit to my perspective." Albus finally finished his long-winded, incogent, half-botched political analysis.

"You're right, it is an absolutely terrible idea," Mr. Diggory nodded.

"It's well-intentioned though," Albus said as he took a sip of the water, "But well-intentioned things don't always go well."

"That's true, what was the saying again?"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Delphi remarked.

\- good intentions? damned muggles and blood trait -

"Sorry, didn't catch that..." Albus thought he heard a flicker of disdain, but suppressed a small frown.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Delphi repeated with a chuckle.

"My apologies, I was day-dreaming..."

"Like he always does." Delphi playfully ribbed him.

"So, how did you and my sister meet?" Koralius inquired.

"Well..."

It was all in all, a decent night. The Diggorys seemed like an amiable bunch, friendly, conversational, polite. Delphi was, from time to time, a little annoyed, no doubt the standard reaction upon seeing your parents interact with your boyfriend the first time. He learned some things about them. They were unable to produce children in their younger years and not soon after accepting this harsh reality, they found Delphi at their doorstep. They made sure to raise her properly, not indulge her and were strict on her magical schooling in spite of her early sickness. When she was six, they adopted Koralius into the family.

And yet, even as they seemed like an ordinary family, with its ups and downs, that earlier voice, perhaps a not too well suppressed thought, nagged at the back of his head.

Something felt wrong.

It wasn't the setting, which was a comfortable home. Not quite Malfoy Manor, but far more established than the Burrow. It wasn't the fact that Koralius kept coughing - really, Albus didn't mind. It wasn't the fact that her parents seemed to love talking about politics, even as Albus constantly strove to get away from the topic because, really, he was used to it and they seemed to appreciate his opinions at least superficially.

It was Delphi's reaction throughout the whole scene. Albus was never the most perceptive person in the world, though he was close to it. He noticed that she continued to frown ever so slightly. There were times when he thought she would utter a few lines in contradiction, times when she looked into his eyes and a flicker of imagination told him that she wanted to get away, times when cracks appeared on the facade.

There was no rational explanation, really, no well-proven thesis. Just a sixth sense.

* * *

 

"Sorry, I know my parents can be a bit much," Delphi told him after he entered her chambers in her family house. "Hope that, uh, didn't bother you too much."

"Not one bit," Albus said with a smirk as his fingers wandered to her shirt's buttons.

"Oh, Albus! Stop thinking so dirty all the time!"

"If you so wish," Albus remarked with a faux-disappointed shrug and wandered to the far side of the room.

"I'm serious, Albus. I... we don't have to keep doing this, you know. We can..."

"I'm listening?"

"Never mind. You're doing great. They - I've been hesitant to tell you this Albus, but my adopted parents, I was surprised at their demeanor tonight, really. They're normally far less polite and welcoming. Back when I was little, they used to..." Her voice choked and faded. She stepped a little closer to him. "They used to beat me. Yell at me. Call me names. They weren't very nurturing, I think I've told you before. It wasn't just strictness. Then there's the fact they hold less than savory views on certain current affairs..."

Lips quivering, she looked as if she was about to say more, but instead, simply buried herself in his shirt. For some reason, he liked it when she did that - he wished she did that more often actually, letting her guard down and showing him that people can be both vulnerable and strong. Holding her close was also a plus. But her words, this time, produced more than that.

Unease.

Something in the picture was missing.

"Less than savory views... you don't mean that they were pu-"

"Very old-fashioned," Delphi said before he could finish his sentence. "My brother and I don't agree with their views at all, needless to say. They're not - I hope this doesn't change anything between us..."

"Of course it won't. Nothing will."

He could feel her heart palpitating as she stood close to him. Nothing had ever mattered, nothing would stop them from being together. If her parents disapproved, if they're not pleasant company, then they'll just have to get around with it. All that mattered was her and him.

* * *

 

Oh little Alby, what to make of him? They were standing so close to each other, inside her old room, where Euphemia Rowle would lock her in with nothing but spellbooks until she mastered the next task. Screams, coupled with manipulative sweet words about her being the savior to carry the torch to the next generation, the twisted nature of it all. A place of pain, of resentment, of a time when she was deprived of love - almost respected by virtue of her blood, but unloved, yet it was almost bearable with him around.

But he should have been no more than a tool. A means to an end. Yet all of a sudden he wasn't. Not in her head.

As he spoke with the Rowles, her fictitious adopted parents, Delphi felt herself shaking on the inside. How she wished the facade were real, that it really was a normal meeting between a normal woman and her boyfriend and her parents. So picturesque, so forbidden, so far away.

They could rule the world together. They would.

The Rowles are nothing compared to what's between them.

They-

"Delphi, is something wrong?"

\- he has to be the one, the only one. No one else was compatible, but more importantly, desirable. There was still much he did not know about her, but it did not matter, for he read her better than most-

"Is something bothering you? You look worried."

To divulge or to withhold. Two paths stand before her.

She turned around and eyed him. "I've been thinking about us... in the long term. We've been together for three years now and we're both clearly serious about all of this, so I was wondering, just what is stopping us from..."

* * *

 

Standing before the veil with Delphi, observing the flecks of dust float through the portal, for the first time in his life, Albus experienced an irrational impulse to cross to the other side - that must have been in its design. It was meant to tempt the curious, those who dared to venture afar. It would ensnare them on an irreversible journey, the daring and fortuitous. Fortunately, Harry's tales of Sirius Black's death was a healthy dose of immunisation against such thoughts. His overall disinterest in the subject of death another.

Death was one of the few mysteries that Albus had little interest for. What once enraptured the minds of austere philosophers, nihilistic wanderers and narcissistic egomaniacs alike came more as an afterthought to him. After all he was young and the young tend to bask in the spell of their own immortality, acting as if their lives had little limits. The fragility of existence itself was a fragile concept, understandable on the abstract but obscure in the concrete. There was no fear of the oblivion either, for Harry had already imparted him with the knowledge of afterlife when he was a very young boy - the image of Albus Dumbledore at an empty King's Cross flaring across his mind - so what was there to worry about? Such is simply the inevitable, logical conclusion to life: one was born, one lives and, finally, one departs the mortal realm. The dead were on the other side, so what made death unnerving anyway?

No such luck for Delphi, who looked like she was about to take another step towards it. Albus gently pulled her back.

It was late at night and they were alone, at the heart of the Department of Mysteries. At Delphi's insistence, Albus had pulled a few strings, utilised a few perks and connections, to get them there. She simply wanted to see it, to ponder on the state of her unknown parents, to look at the closest thing to death and afterlife in the eye. He could not refuse such a request. So there they are.

The eerie light of the veil gleamed on her new silver ring, embedded with sapphires. Lily had helped him pick it.

"Have you ever thought about what's on the other side?" Delphi asked.

"Not really, I mean, I kind of know what's over there - well not really, but does it really matter?"

"Of course, most of your loved ones are still here."

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, I understand."

"It's not just that Delphi. When my father sort-of died back at the Battle of Hogwarts, he went there - well at least he was in limbo. All I know was that there was another side, so those who died are not really gone after all. I just figured that pondering about afterlife is kind of pointless. Better to focus your efforts on this world and hope for the best in the next."

"I see," Delphi said, nodding.

"Don't move too close to it," Albus remarked as he saw her feet shift again.

"Sorry, I don't even know why, it's a stupid idea for me to come here, to bring us here -"

"No, I understand."

"I just, I wonder whether it's possible to cross to the other side, to even glimpse at my parents. I suppose it's folly."

"Well, from what I've heard, you die when you try to cross that."

"I know... Do you want to grab chicken?" Almost on cue, her stomach growled.

Albus chuckled - way to switch topics. "Fried chicken nuggets from McDonald's?"

Delphi nodded with a wry grin.

"Not again," Albus moaned. "When will you see the light and understand that McDonald's utter trash - American trash!"

Delphi guffawed and for a moment, they forgot where they were. In each other's arms, nothing else seemed to exist. Reality constituted of each other, melding into one. Inseparable.

* * *

 

Her forces are amassing, slowly but surely. She had sent Bjarn to negotiate with wild werewolf packs, gauging their interest, their resentments at being restrained by the increasingly cumbersome magical laws. She had sent recruits to all the nooks and crannies, the wretched crevices, of wizarding society. People were interested. Years of subjection and stagnation had made people restless. Peace bred weakness. And people were tired of it.

"Let our sons and daughters rise up to fight, for the very existence of magic will be at sake. When muggles dominate us and our traitorous government caves in, there will only be us. Let the magical blood that flows through our veins, the thousands of years of history, be a reminder that we will not perish in vain! Our society no longer values strength. These soft administers that dictate our laws have made our children soft too! Well, Mrs. Granger, how do you explain the ridiculous influx of muggleborns - your kind - into our society, who have no respect for wizarding traditions? These muggleborns - they want wizarding society to disappear... and it will, my friends, if we don't do anything about it. This is our last fighting chance! But tonight, I see all of you in front of me - and I know the world is saved. Because you, the brave and valiant few, will rise up! Rise up and defend your homeland!"

* * *

 

A polite smile was all he gave to his former best-friend as he swerved towards his cousin and planted a polite kiss on her cheeks. "Can't believe Rosie is getting married! Can't wait to see with you many little ones you're going to be popping out- hey!" A small smack was enough to elicit a laugh from both of them. Scorpius stood by mildly awkwardly as Albus continued to offer his congratulations. It was a strange sensation. A few years ago, they would have been fist-bumping and patting each other on their backs. Albus would have been the one to give Scorpius his best man's speech - now he would be giving Rose's instead. How times have changed, changed people.

"I hear you're getting married soon," Rose said with a wink. "Send Delphi my love! I'm sorry she can't be hear today. Fevers are indeed terrible." Unlike Scorpius, there was no problem at all.

"The word sure gets around fast," Albus chuckled.

Scorpius appeared to shift uncomfortably, which made Albus frown. Was the guy somehow unhappy? He couldn't resist it, not anymore. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing. Congratulations, mate. Hope she makes you happy."

Their old housemates had finally re-congregated. There was Douglas Bulstrode, the Appleby Arrow's renowned chaser with a new witch on his arm every single day; there was Lucas Lowe, now married to a muggle billionaire heiress and with two children, living a double life as a muggle philanthropist and a contributor for the Wizarding Weekly; there was Lawrence Nott, now an increasingly respected professor of Charms in Ilvermorny, independent of his past family name; there was Darius Greengrass who had traversed the vast expanses of the Amazon rainforest and progressing with his botany research; there was Duke Greengrass, the other twin, who was now a celebrity chef that owned one of the hottest new restaurants in Diagon Alley; there was Cornelius Mulciber, slave to his sordid name no longer, washing them away with catchy (godawful) pop tunes that swooned the hearts of young witches; there was Hector Morrison, a political journalist for the Daily Prophet.

And, finally, him and Scorpius, the groom of the wedding who was without a best man.

Was it really normal?

Of course it was.

It was as if no one had to know.

They could definitely try to keep up their pretenses. For a while at least. Hopefully long enough.

Lawrence enveloped Albus in a bone-crushing hug as they saw each other. They then proceeded to update each other about their lives, peppered with warm platitudes - and a small underlying sense of unease. In spite of this merry occasion, something was amiss. Heck they were Slytherin and experts at discerning hidden signals, Albus should have expected nothing less.

"Albus, how's being an Auror going for you?" Lawrence ventured. More unease. The man was shifting. Old habits die hard.

"Working on a case, as always," Albus replied with a tired grin. "Sleep is a luxury these days. What about 'Professor Nott'? I hear you've acquired quite the reputation in America. It's nice to hear."

"Thanks I'm working on it Albus. Though I must admit, I'm not really used to being in a position of authority where I'm chiding all the rambunctious kids instead of, you know, being one of them," Lawrence chuckled. His feet shifted again. They were dancing around something.

"Spill it Lawrence, what's wrong."

"Perceptive as always. Seriously Albus," Lawrence said as his voice quieted, "You must have heard about my cousin Vacillius? Look, I know my family - ancestors or whatever - haven't been the most receptive of muggleborns - heck, Cantankerous practically coined the Sacred 28 - but... you know most of us aren't like that anymore, right? There are some old purebloods, a select few in my family, at least from what I've garnered during family renunions, that are... nostalgic for the old ways... There's this thing, this organisation-"

"The Son's of Walpurgis?"

"Yeah - yeah - them-"

"Yeah I've heard about them. What an unoriginal name am I right?"

A stifled chuckle, barely able to mask frustration. "Yeah they're one of the reasons why I'm going to reduce my travel to England as much as possible. Visit me in Ilvermorny all you want, Albus, but I'm not coming back until it's all over."

"You think there's going to be something big?"

"I don't know. It's just, when you're unpleasant relatives with unsavoury and reactionary opinions suddenly find a concrete channel to advocate for their views, well, I don't want to deal with them. You know?"

"I understand."

"Now, onto something more cheerful: how is Scorpius doing? More importantly, how on earth did he manage to get into Rose Weasley's pants?"

Albus guffawed at how abruptly Lawrence changed his tone from grave to cheerful. As they chatted and patted each other on their backs while walking towards bride and groom, it was as if the old days never changed.

The couple were chatting with Lucas, who was, at present, offering unsolicited advice on parenthood (all the 'no we want to take our time' or ' please, Lucas, slow down' fell onto deaf ears) as well as Hector and Duke.

"SCORPIUS! How's my man doing?!"

Hugs, fistbumps, secret bro greetings, sign of the old times - pretending like nothing was wrong at all. Albus joined in too and, as if a veneer had been placed over their faces and pliable bodies, him and Scorpius were carting as if they were still best mates. Sort of. They smiled and grinned at each other, cracked a few superficial jokes while Hector casually evoked jokes regarding the homoerotic nature of their relationship, a not uncommon recurrence back in the good old days.

More talking, more reminiscing, more drinks and even more drinks, as the conversations continued at the guest table. The rest of their mates joined them too, some with their other halves.

Delphi was not there though.

"When are we going to see mini Albuses popping out soon?" Rose joked as the rest joined in with the laughter.

"Well that would be quite the challenge for the rest of the world," Hector chimed in.

Albus was never enamoured with inebriation. Since becoming an Auror, when the blurring of your senses by alcohol can induce you to make unwise decisions, his drinking habits have been drastically curtailed.

And yet that night, he drank his heart out.

* * *

 

"You're getting married? With her? Albus, I-"

"Oh please, Scorpius, not now-"

"You never told anyone! Not Rose, not your parents, not your family, not me-"

"And pray, tell, why would I? It was only a few weeks ago, the wedding won't be till a while later. There's still time."

"Albus, I - it's just, it's Delphi-"

"And your problem being..."

"I'm concerned Albus! I'm concerned about the influence she has over you, you're - you're not acting like yourself anymore and it's been like this for so, so long-"

"Then why are you only approaching me about this now? We've been friends for years and then all of a sudden, you treat me like crap. Well, not necessarily in a malicious way, but when was the last time we hung out like mates? When was the last time we talked properly and not because we were socially compelled to? You complain about Delphi all the time and yet she's been a better friend and companion that you. I was stressed and sick and, just, not okay. You have no idea, you-"

"Albus!"

It was all too much for Scorpius, who was panting in front of Albus' doorstep. It used to be his apartment too. But that now seemed a world away.

"Scorp, I just don't know how we drifted apart... I... I know people move on and you're getting married, but, man, it feels like crap not having you as a best friend. Every time I see us acting all distant, I remember the days when we always had each other's back at Hogwarts." Tired lines and dark circles were etched on his illuminated face. He looked a bit like a ghost.

Guilt swelled through Scorpius all of a sudden. All this time he saw Albus as a changed person, an alien character consumed by his job of chasing criminals and engaging in a toxic relationship with a strange woman, dabbing in illegal spells - if the drained and haggard face and secrecy charms he had cast around his room were any indication - all while becoming more and more cold and distant. All this time, it was still the same guy, a best friend clandestinely crying out for help. The same young boy desparately trying to find his place in the world, consumed by burning ambition, brilliant and driven in his own way, but also incredibly vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Albus. I really am."

"Take care Scorpius, I meant what I said about the Sons of Walpurgis. Lawrence has offered me a few clues on their activities. Just, stay safe okay?"

"My dad claims he's received a few threatening letters, but nothings too serious..."

"Does he still have them? If he does, tell him to send these to the Auror department. It could be another lead. More than that-"

"Albus, let's grab coffee sometime. Now, even, if that's your thing. You need some time to chill. Just, take a break and stop thinking about your job-"

"I can't, Scorpius. This, this is bigger than me. The Wizarding World could be at risk of falling into War again and I can't -"

"Albus! Is everything alright out there?"

Delphi.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah, we live together now. Anyways, come in. We're about to watch a movie together. You should join us."

"I... Let's meet up at my place tomorrow. Just you and me. The old mates. How does that sound?"

"Hmmm... alright."

A small start, perhaps. But better late than never.

* * *

 

"Teach me how to fly," he asked her a few months after they had started dating. She had initially deferred, claiming her own lack of expertise and confidence to teach anyone. But she eventually agreed. She always did when he asked her, the kind and understanding woman.

So here they were, soaring the skies tentatively. Admittedly, he was rather clumsy with his technique, but she was a patient teacher. They started slow, working through low heights, beginning with the low farmlands (under a disillusionment charm, of course) and gradually gravitating up the clouds. The cold winds blew past his face. Though he had never been the most adept person on a broom, he still enjoyed this liberating sensation, unbounded and unburdened, not at the mercy of some mercurial broomstick, overlooking a dense, dark foliage.

He could get used to this.

* * *

 

"There's something wrong about Albus. I'm worried - I'm really worried."

"What is wrong, Scorpius?"

"Mr. Potter, are you aware of the fact that he is getting married?"

"Yes, my son has just sent me a message not too long ago-"

"To Delphi. Delphi."

"Yes, Ginny and I just met up with her-"

"She can't be trusted. I know, I just know- There's something about her. She's changing him: don't tell me you didn't notice. He's still the same Albus and - I mean I hope we - never mind - point is he's the same guy, but don't you think that she's influencing him?" Scorpius was getting increasingly exasperated at Harry Potter's inability to comprehend the gravity of his explications - or perhaps his own inability to express his sentiments of foreboding.

"That's what couples tend to do to each other, Scorpius. I'm sure you have plenty of experience with that. I-"

"They were casting silencing charms, anti-spell detection charms all around their rooms back when we still shared an apartment-"

"Well, Ginny and I used to do that when we-"

"It's different! I know! It's just different!" - and Harry Potter was taken aback by his vigor, his vehemence - "I know I sound like a crazy, paranoid guy right now, but please Mr. Potter. It's partly my fault too: should have paid attention and been a better friend. Nonetheless, I... I just hope it turns out okay. You know? I'm worried."

"I understand."

"Times are different now. I'm sure you're aware that my father has been receiving threatening messages from this group that calls itself the Sons of Walpurgis. I'm now a married man, I have a family that I care about, I..."

"Scorpius, I know what you're feeling. My son... being an Auror and I guess growing up as my kid, it's a tough state to be in and sometimes he gets too wrapped in his own thing he needs some outlet of relief... You're a good friend. You've always been one since you two met at Hogwarts" - Scorpius felt a wince in his heart at the mention of that - "and no matter how little time both of you spend together now, you're still a good one. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on his well-being too. He is my son after all."

* * *

 

"Really Vacillius, I am not interested for now," Lawrence exclaimed in frustration over the phone. It was late at night in Ilvermorny and he was still grading his students' papers. And for the record, I hope you realise the irony of leading an anti-muggle movement whilst utilising a telephone. That went unsaid, of course, given that even upon rejection, he did not want to provoke too much antagonism. He still needed to maintain some semblance of goodwill towards the 'movement,' even as he wanted nothing to do with it. "But know that I will support your cause from deep within my heart. Who knows, maybe I'll start a chapter here in North America. I am a professor at Ilvermorny after all, which places me in a very good position of influence if I should choose to do so... okay, that's it. It's late here. Good bye."

Somehow, the scattered seeds of the Nott family always managed to worm its way back into his life, especially the bad seeds, coming to think of it. Vacillius had always been a bit of a reckless bully, a delinquent, boorish and not entirely intelligent. Perhaps his mildly prejudiced views were always lurking beneath the surface, but certainly, Lawrence was not aware of them until recently. Until that guy started to consistently contact him and urge him to join his new 'movement' the Sons of Walpurgis.

These days, it is no longer uncommon for certain pureblood families - especially the stock from where Death Eaters emerged: the Notts, the Goyles, the Mulcibers, the Averys - to be approached by recruiters from the nascent movement. They were coming out of the shadows, slowly, bit by bit. All the past pretenses they carved over themselves were vanishing. Perhaps he was only starting to see those he once knew for whom they actually are.

Maybe Lawrence had been naive on his part, assuming that such bigoted views were a sure thing of the past, deliberately ignoring the festering underbelly of reactionaries. They started off with legitimate grievances, of people nevertheless managing to not judge them by their forefathers - and then proceeded to steep into the very views their forefathers were despised for. It was frustrating that people were so thick, so willing to go along with grand projects of delusional Dark Lords.

His phone rang again. This time it was Albus Potter. Ah, an old friend.

"Lawrence, we're your cousin's place now. What's the password?"

* * *

 

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he dodged a green beam of spell. In the heat of the moment, the melee of danger, Albus had never felt more alive. All the hours of dueling with Delphi, his colleagues and himself (it was possible, in spite of snarky accusations from MacLaggen) converged.

"Reducto!"

"Protego!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Confrigo!"

"Reducto!"

"Expulso!"

"Stupify!"

Isadora, Cynthia and Don had taken down one wizard who bore resemblance to Bjarn Lovsen, stunning and binding him, but at least six other neo-Death Eaters were still on the loose.

Thomas was nowhere to be found.

A shadow flickered.

[Left.]

A Killing Curse came hurling towards him as he summoned the table to intercept it.

It was Vacillius Nott.

"So you're Albus Potter, son of the Chosen One. I must admit, I'm not impresse-"

A silent reducto was hurled towards him, forcing him to scramble aside. Albus did not allow him a moment's respite, simultaneously hurling another disarming and explosive spell, hoping to render the man incapacitated.

"Really, you would not even allow-"

The man's limbs started twisting, he would feel his joints ache, his skin numbing, as blood would be temporarily cut off from various crucial areas of his body. Albus knew because this was one of the spells he tried with Delphi. It would hurt, but more importantly, it was effective.

"Fuck! What is this!"

The man's hands twisted, convulsed violently as he dropped his wand. Albus did not waste a single second to summon it.

"You know what - you're a son of a bitch - no wonder you -"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

That shut him up.

The Sons of Walpurgis appeared to operate in cells of 7, supposedly because it was a magic number. How dreary.

Two down, five more to go.

Three more fell by simple stunning spells, their wand works so shoddy that Albus suspected they were never properly trained at a young age. It would make sense. They all men had a waifish quality about them, a life of petty crime on the streets that continued from childhood to today. Radicalised in Azkaban, they must have been recruited upon release.

Cynthia and Isadora were taking down another wizard with ease, disarming him and then casting a subsequent binding charm. That part should have no trouble.

Don and Loris were assigned to monitor any potential escapees.

Thomas's locations was still unknown.

And then Albus' alert buzzed.

This indicated trouble.

"Fiendfyre! He's started fiendfyre! Quick, we need to evacuate or do something about it!" Don panicked as he rushed to the scene with Albus. "We-"

"No worries, I'm on it," Albus replied. He had learned about the counter-curse to fiendfyre while perusing through troves of old spell books with Delphi. "Meanwhile, go and assist Thomas. Make sure the last one doesn't escape."

"I'm on it!"

Muttering incantations, a silvery whisk shot out of his wand, swirling around him as it progressively increased in size and then it was unleashed, inundating the room. When it made contact with Fiendfyre, the raging inferno dissipated as if it were never there. It was a draining effort and all of a sudden, Albus was hit by a small wave of exhaustion - that he immediately dispelled. This was serious business. Everything else can wait.

Once the smoke's vision cleared, he could still see his teammates clash with another figure. Sparks flaring, there seemed to be no end to the duel.

It was Koralius.

"Koralius?!"

There was no masking his incredulity.

"Oh what's up 'bro'?"

A snide snicker.

"What the hell?!"

"You know this crazy person?" MacLaggen bellowed over the mayhem.

"Barely."

Koralius began cackling like a maniac as he hurled a Cruciatus Curse in Albus' direction.

"Levicorpus!"

"STUPEFY!"

Thomas' spell finally hit Koralius, who collapsed onto the ground.

"Brachiabindo," Albus uttered as coils grew around the guy.

MacLaggen took a deep breath of relief. "Now all that's left is to send them all the way to prison."

"Well that was a hassle."

"You will tell Lily that I saved this raid with my dashing heroism right?" Don joked as he gave Albus a light punch.

"Totally and how you so dashingly dedicated your defeats to her." He was dripping with sarcasm. "For real, good job. We're off to a good start. This night has been... interesting."

"You knew the guy that cast the Fiendfyre," Thomas noted as they waited to file their mission report. It was late into the night and their four junior Aurors had already departed. In truth, he was feeling tired as well, looking forward to the comforts of his bed and blanket.

"A friend of a friend. I had no idea that he was ... that he was... you know..." Albus was stuttering, unable to spit out words, confused, confounded. Lost. Baffled.

"Well, that kind of makes sense, I guess. You were in Slytherin," Thomas pointed out. He knew, for some reason, perhaps owing to the fact that the two had reached an elevated stage of familiarity whereby they were familiar with each other's preferences and reactions to unwarranted prodding, that any further inquiries would have generated substantial discomfort. And tonight, Thomas knew none of them had time for it.

"What's that mean?" Albus was mildly irritated. A little defensive.

"Well, what that means is that even if you're friends there are likely very nice people, their friends and relatives might not be. You know most of You-Know-Who's followers were from your old House..."

"I get it, I get it. No, but Koralius... he was my ... never mind." Albus stopped speaking when the Head Auror, Harry Potter, called the two into his office.

* * *

 

The day after the raid, he was successfully evaded all her attempts at questioning, deflecting things to his concerns about his junior Aurors, his guilt about missing out on dinner with her and his doubts about the investigation. He had vehemently avoided all discussion about her family with her. The news of her brother's capture - as well as his involvement in the Sons of Walpurgis - would be too much for her to bear.

The case was technically resolved, but they may have uncovered something more.

He needed to pay a private trip to Delphi's childhood home. He knew she did not share her parent's views, but now knowing the extent that her brother did, he would have had good reason to suspect her parents too. They appeared to be relatively wealthy. There was a strong possibility they were housing cells and meetings for the Sons of Walpurgis, or at least bankrolling them.

But to do that, he needed more than invisibility. He needed total, complete undetectability.

He needed Merlin's Locket.

Which was why he was now in his father's office, without anyone's knowledge.

It was technically a break-in, but he also technically had legal access to most parts of the Auror department due to working there, such is his process of rationalisation. Anyhow, it was a necessary object, necessary for his mission to succeed.

Accio Merlin's Locket, he uttered the words in his head.

No reaction. As expected, his father would have protections more than rudimentary.

Think, think, think. Scour the depths of your mind, something, anything.

Wait.

Harry Potter charmed his drawers.

It was a figment of his childhood memory.

Six year old Albus Severus Potter went to work with his dad - more like without permission due to crying about some unknown, trivial matter - as the man casted a complicated array of incantations on his drawers. When Albus pouted and asked the man why he did not buy a big muggle safety box like Grandpa Weasley, the man chuckled and said that keeping things simple had their own advantages.

A few spells, some sophisticated guesses and wandworks and Albus slid one open to find the Locket of Merlin, gleaming in the pale moonlight, residing on top of a few coffee papers. He snorted in exasperation. Of course his dad would do something like that. Hide something so important in bland, plain sight. Most would be fooled.

But not him, not Albus.


	4. Chapter 4

Twirling the locket in his hands - feeling the heat from them seep into the cold metal - gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. This ancient artifact, it was technically his to keep. No, his to use. It was a mere tool, not an an object to brag about.

Lying beside was Delphi, sound asleep. She had no idea what he would do later that day. He had to be discreet and yet - yet he felt an inexplicable guilt about hiding something from her. Hiding a lot, actually. How would she feel about him exposing her family, arresting them, placing them in Azkaban? Would she resent him for it - no - they had never been too warm of a family... perhaps she would even feel relief... He remembered that she was reluctant to move in with him initially, due to reservations about living under the same roof with others again. But no matter.

Anyhow, the sun was rising and he always enjoyed waking her up by planting kisses all over her body.

"Albus..." She murmured half awake. "Want you in me..."

"We're a little too early for that," he remarked cheekily.

* * *

 

Scorpius greeted Delphi's invitation for coffee with slight bemusement. Beyond the platitudes and polite speech they exchanged whilst Albus was around - back when him and Albus spent a lot of time together - Scorpius had not really spoken to Delphi much. And then all of a sudden she wanted to get to know him more and socialise. This shouldn't feel ominous - perhaps Albus had implored her to reach out to him in a broader effort to mend ties between all of them and restore their friendship - but it did. Still, he wanted to go. He needed to in order to mend ties with Albus, for things to be the way they used to be.

It was a quaint little tea house situated in the high end of Diagon Alley. There were not many customers present at that time of the day, yet the place did not feel empty or desolate, owing to the very generous demeanor and attitude of the hostess.

He ordered some Early Grey, whilst she opted for Raspberry Fruit Tea, an infinitely inferior option.

"Oh come on, don't look at me like that, fruit tea is just as good as your traditional, stuffy Early Grey," Delphi remarked with a chuckle.

"Let's agree to disagree," Scorpius remarked wryly.

"I like you," Delphi noted boldly, laughing.

"So how's the wedding planning going between you and Albus? I hear you want to do it in Greece," Scorpius stated, "Birthplace of a lot of modern magical practices. Not a bad choice. Some of the islands are really nice. Rose and I have been to Crete, Mykonos and Corfu together. There's a lot to look at."

"Yes, I was indeed thinking about that. But moreover, I must ask - I am curious after all - how are you and Rose doing? Is married life treating you well? Hey, a girl can be a little nervous in her anticipation for that, right?"

"Well..."

As he continued speaking, he felt a slight trace of dizziness buzz through his head. It was no matter: he had gotten up late today and having more than 10 hours of sleep, no matter how desirable it sounded, always made him even more tired.

* * *

 

Oh Little Alby... running off and doing just what she wanted him to do. She never even needed to ask. The Locket had never been so near her reach, the first piece to her monument. All this time, he had realised nothing, not even after the capture of 'Koralius,' her falsified brother. He could really be so thick sometimes. Rodolphus Lestrange - also known as 'Dad' - had quickly informed her on the matter. (Or perhaps he simply refused to see the truth.) He had been at the scene of the raid too, though he lurked clandestinely in the shadows, managing to evade the pesky little junior Aurors and sneak off once Koralius was subdued.

"Your little toy is not completely incompetent," the man had told her. "He may be useful to us - but beware, don't let any silly feelings get into your head."

She knew of course, at the end of the day, in spite of what they had between them, she was here for a higher purpose. That would never be a problem for them though, because she knew Albus would come round, given the right circumstances. She was already hearing him voice certain views, from time to time - though he would never admit if he knew the truth - that sympathised with the Sons of Walpurgis. He was sceptical of close integration with the muggle world, he had doubts about stringent regulation on illicit spells and he believed that many scions of old pureblood families should no longer be burdened by the reputations of their forefathers (courtesy to the fact that many of his old friends were Slytherin House.) These were part of the core views the Sons advocated.

They were more similar in ideology than anyone would admit.

And to think he would run off to investigate the Rowles, even more perfect. It was the most opportune time for her to act then, just as he would interrogate her godforsaken adopted parents, arrest them, clearing the path for her to completely act on her own. Killing two birds with one stone.

The first one had to be the hardest, but she had mentally readied herself for it.

Earnest Little Alby, always so keen to do the right thing. She adored him because of it.

* * *

 

"How's it going lil' bro?"

James had greeted him with an enthusiastic fist bump. Smelling like fresh coffee, eyes slightly red-rimmed, hair mildly ruffled, he had no doubt just returned from one of his business trips for Gringott's Bank, where he worked as an analyst for their international currency department. These days, his brother was a busy man, having submerged his soul into the incessant beat of currency flows and rates, the never-ending drums of the market, managing less than 5 hours of sleep a day as he closely tracked the situations in China, Japan, America and Morocco. Money never sleeps, so they all say.

"You look like you've lost your soul," Albus teased with a snort. "How is Claire? Is she still terrorising people as a tax collector?"

James had surprised everyone, well almost everyone apart from Lily, when he finally tied the knot with Claire Zabini a few years ago. They had hated each other on first sight back in Hogwarts, feuding in class, barraging each other with a torrent of spells, taunting each other on the Quidditch Pitch and, even, wrecking each other's dates with an array of pranks (James had slipped frog-transformation potion into her erstwhile boyfriend Craig's soup once, for example.) Even to this day, one can still here bickering in their household as they frantically argued over what to do with their baby boy's nappies (being a parent really sucked away one's time) or over what bedtime stories to tell or at what age should they break the news that Santa wasn't really. It never ends.

In a chain of events that no one - sans Lily - could have predicted, they warmed up to each other when they were both made Head Boy and Head Girl. The shock culminated for Albus when he found them fucking each other in a cupboard, a scene not too glamorous for two people in supposedly reputable positions. Then, that Christmas, James brought her home and introduced her to his family. (Albus had already known her courtesy to being in the same house, but he never saw it coming. Not in a million years.) Maybe opposites really do attract - or maybe they were both too much for anyone else to manage. Anyhow, their marriage seemed to be going well so Albus was glad for them. One's a banker, the other a tax collector and both happy parents. Whatever works.

"Well, at least I still look alive," James huffed with a grin. "You might as well be a walking corpse with your dark circles and ghastly pallid skin."

"Well, the affairs of public safety demand my attention 24/7."

"And the affairs of international markets demand mine."

"And hence your lack of a soul," Albus finished off, chuckling.

"Okay, that's a little unfair. We bankers do contribute a lot to society," James explicated.

"I never said you guys didn't, but someone's a little defensive," Albus said wryly.

"Oh Al... as grouchy as ever. Tell me, how's your engagement playing out? Delphi Diggory... Man I always knew you preferred older women!" James grinned triumphantly. "Remember back when we were teenagers and I told you you'd eventually marry a girl 10 years older. Well, guess who was right!"

"Okay, okay. Love you, fuck you. You were right Jamesy." A contrite sigh. His brother always knew how precisely to make fun of him. "Anyways, I hear little Nigel is starting daycare soon. You should have named him Elmer."

"Very funny Albus, but tell me, when am I going to see little Albuses running around moaning about the world like grumpy walruses. Maybe you can name your kids Elmer. Elmer the first, Elmer the second, Elmer the third..."

"Oh stop it James!"

"You know, Albus, another reason why I wanted to meet with you - aside from being able to make fun of my favourite and only brother - is that... Claire is in trouble," James said, rapidly switching topics, palpably trembling. His expressions darkened instantaneously.

"The Sons of Walpurgis?"

"Is that what they call themselves?"

"Yes."

Albus felt his blood go cold. These people were now after his family; not just unrelated friends and acquaintances, but his own brother and sister-in-law. It reminded him of the urgency of the whole situation, in spite of the (mostly) successful resolution of his murder investigation. He had to get to the end of everything soon.

"I... She's been contacted by their members twice this week alone. I'm worried for her. These people don't seem to know when to stop," James uttered, shaking his head. "Really, it's not that big of a deal yet and Claire insists she'd have no problem taking care of them. But still, I worry... We're having another child, you know. Recent diagnosis told us it's going to be a girl. I want her and her brother to grow up in a safe world."

"I see," Albus said, frowning and nodding at the same time. "I'm... working on stopping the Sons of Walpurgis. The entire Auror department and the Ministry are aware of their activities and threat level. But if you really want to be safe with Claire, I'd recommend a temporary transfer to the United States or Canada. A friend there tells me that their activities haven't reached there yet."

James took in the information and inclined. "It just feels so weird... I mean all this time, all throughout our childhood, everything seemed fine. It was like we put all the conflicts, blood-statuses and discrimination behind us, like we reached the end of trouble itself. And then all of a sudden, it was like the stories from our parent's past were brought back in flesh. I... I guess it's just a sign of our times."

"No, I understand. But hopefully, unlike them, we'd be able to nip this situation in the bud. Like I said Jamesy, don't worry. I'll put an end to it."

* * *

 

It had been the third time she retched inexplicably today. The first had been after breakfast, when a wave of nausea swept through her and she promptly regurgitated whatever's left of her homemade omelette into the toilet. Then it was while she was watching the Great British Bake-Off. Just wonderful. Finally, there was her, puking pathetically while her husband was grabbing afternoon tea with an acquaintance.

Taking out her pregnancy test, which she obtained in a nearby pharmacy, she rushed to the bathroom and examined the results.

She was with child.

She needed to tell Scorpius.

* * *

 

It was a delicate operation, Delphi mused, but she had a lot of things on her side. One is a silver smith with prodigious forging abilities, another is a fiancee who was so trusting of her and put the two together, she had quietly replaced his locket with a fake. After all the intrigues, investigations, evasions and close calls, it was finally in her hands. He had given her what none of her useless underlings could.

There was another component too. She needed a sacrifice.

It would come in the form of the unconscious body still bounded and cast into that rug sack that her subordinates carried. Obtaining Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy - insolent blood traitor from that cravenly family that should perish forever - was surprisingly easy. He never saw the potion in the tea coming.

Her lips curled as she started setting up the ritual. The locked was placed at the centre of the pentagram as ancient ruins were carved around it.

It has began.

* * *

 

The first thing Albus noticed was that the house was not empty. The second was that there was most definitely some conspiracy occurring in there. Hushed voices - hushed voices in his head too, of a gruff tenor. Holding his breath steady, avoiding any erratic palpitations, Albus donned his Invisibility Cloak and advanced through the premise.

He bypassed the dining area they ate in a few months before. It was still the same as ever, but there was an eery quality to it that Albus perhaps overlooked at first. He only just noticed the skulled sculpture at the centre of the table - no, it wasn't there before. A small carved serpent emerged from its mouth.

How wonderful. His heart raced at the prospect of having to inform Delphi that her adopted parents' supposed sympathy for the Death Eaters was more than just sympathy. It may well translate into active collaboration with the Sons of Walpurgis. It went way further than usual prejudice, bias against muggles that some wizards - even those who fought for the Light - could exhibit. It would surely break Delphi's heart, unsettle her at least. She had told him many times that she was not too close with them, which was probably a good thing now if any unpleasant revelations came into hand.

He treaded softly across the corridors. Like last time, the portraits nearby were of ancient aristocrats who could probably trace their lineage back to the court of King Arthur. Except they appeared different too. They were frowning, sneering at each other. There was one that particularly drew him in: the Grand Dame Felicia ... Rowles. That was what the gold-plated description below read.

Her parents were affiliated with the Rowles.

But that made no sense.

Hang on.

Nothing made any sense.

Her name was Delphini Diggory. The Diggory's were no members of the Dark. Cedric Diggory, a member of her family, was one of the first casualties of the Second Wizarding War, cruelly executed as a 'spare' after the last Triwizard Tournament. His father had told him the story countless times. When he had inquired her the question before, she told him that Diggory was simply the name of her birth parents, which she had opted to use instead of her adopted parents'. That said, why on earth would the Rowles adopt a Diggory?

What if -

His blood ran cold.

But before he could process any further, he needed to move on.

[Scratch that.]

"Our leader said tonight will be the night. The ritual will be completed and blood will be spilt."

"Are you sure?"

"We'll march on the Ministry. Yes-"

"No! That's still too risky!"

"Bold moves, young one. We need bold moves."

"Our rebellion must start with death. Lots of death. Significant deaths. And the Dark Mark will hang up high on the sky once more."

"Lestrange is already leading a raid on the Ministry later."

Lestrange. It had to be Rodolphus Lestrange, by process of elimination. For the other two were dead. This was no mere petty criminal gang, as previous investigative attempts revealed, but this was the first time a significant Death Eater had been mentioned as an affiliate. Albus reached into his magical hotline with Thomas and relayed the information: Rodolphus Lestrange. Out and about. Planning on raiding the Ministry tonight.

The reply was quick. What?! What is going on? Where are you Albus? What are you doing?

Sighing, he responded back: My girlfriend's parent's house. I'll send you the co-ordinates. I'll let you know by the distress signal if I need any help. Please get the team ready. Reach out to other teams too.

"They're already suspicious of us!"

"Our leader has that taken care of."

He was approaching the room.

He needed to act quick.

Reaching into his pockets, his fingers curled around his wand. His other hand found its way next to the bottle of Sleeping Mist, a spray made out of Sleeping Potion. He needed to quickly slip it into the room, release it and incapacitate everyone there. It would be a risky endeavour and yet, for some reason, he felt an inexplicable confidence swell through him. He knows he shouldn't be arrogant and yet he knows it would work. None of them would suspect that he was coming.

And it was done, within moments of its release, Albus could hear thuds on the ground from the outside. Just to be on the safe side of things, he tried to listen to the voices in their heads. They were faint, which was a good sign.

Putting on his gas mask, he stepped through the door and -

He ducked as a green beam of light shot at him.

"Well, look at who we have here. We were waiting for you"

Expelliarmus.

The non-oral spell was cast so fast that the speaker did not have to react. The wand flew out of his hand.

Reducto!

The wand was smashed into pieces before it reached Albus.

Swiftly, Albus stunned the man and proceeded to scan the rest of the room. Unfortunately, not all bodies were unconscious.

Needless to say, Albus activated his silent distress signal.

"I'm going to have to tell my daughter that her fiance is treating her mother very badly," a voice female cackled. "We meet again, Albus."

He felt his body slam against the wall.

But he was able to make eye contact with her and with that, he wormed his way into her mind.

\- A taciturn middle-aged woman receiving a small baby bundle, rolling her eyes. The beating, the locking up, the screaming -

\- The meetings with Death Eaters. The narrow escapement of sentencing, on the account of lack of sufficient evidence for war crimes, a mere technical hole that released her back into society. The-

"You're Euphemia Rowle," Albus gasped and then growled.

Shock coursed through him as the strings connected. And then suddenly, it was replaced with anger. And confusion. And even more anger, white hot rage. Just how far from the truth was he? Just how many secrets and lies did he have to uncover? Just - hang on a minute! They were not even supposed to know he was there, they weren't supposed to be 'waiting' for him, able to sense him. The Locket made sure of that - Just how much of a festering cesspit was Delphi's family, just how much was she-

"Crucio!"

The red beam barely missed him.

There was no time to speculate, only time to act.

She was an Occlumens, no doubt, skilled at concealing her thoughts, but he was an accomplished Legilimens too, hence why he was able to prowl through her memories the first place. Also the reason why he sensed her incoming conjuring of fiendfyre.

He blasted her against the wall before she could finish attempting it and roped her arms tightly around each other to incapacitate her spell-capacities.

"You know, that might have killed off everyone else in this room," Albus remarked wryly.

"Their lives are not of much consequence, not to our movement. Besides, our reinforcements are coming." A hysterical laugh, followed by a faux-amicable chuckle.

"So are ours."

"Rodolphus will be here any moment..." singsonged Euphemia in a shrill voice. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! My hands - they're burning! Make it stop! Make-"

"Only if you answer my questions," Albus cut her off brusquely before taking her wand from her entangled fingers, which by now had resembled gnarled twigs.

"What is there to say? You already know, deep inside your heart Albus Potter, you know." A cruel shriek. She was hurting but she wanted to make sure her tormenter was hurting even more.

"Her," his utterance came in a whisper. His mind sprung into denial immediately. No. It can't be. She's merely ignorant. She had no idea about this. Today, after he was done with this business, done with the capture of the Rowles and Lestrange and the others, he'd go back home, pop a champagne bottle with her and relax and make love. There was no other way, but there was.

"You know, for a rising star in the Auror department, you really are thick. All the better for our cause I suppose."

"Your cause is not so much a cause as a stupid, pathetic bunch of cranky good-for-nothing reactionaries whose only accomplishment is being more in-bred than the rest of the population being saddened by their loss of privilege, one that is not deserved. So shut it. How long has Delphi been involved?" He demanded loudly.

"Oh Albus, always trying to exonerate her? Do you know who she really is? Do you know that she alone is the scion of the once great out of Gaunt, the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin?"

Albus felt sick in the stomach. It can't be, it can't be, it can't be... There was no way - and Euphemia greeted his response with glee.

"How?"

"Why she's the daughter of Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. Surely, you should have figured that out by now? Why did you think she knew so much about snakes? She's not a zoologist." Euphemia Rowle was mocking him, sneering straight into his face.

"What-"

"She's our leader - and you know. Subliminally, you always did. You even did her bidding, in an inadvertent way. After all, the Sons of Walpurgis would surely engrave your name in history for your great accomplishment in delivering the Locket of Merlin to us. Because you loved her and she-"

Violently, Albus thrusted a spell towards her mouth and moments later, there was a brisk tearing noise as blood emerged from the place. Her tongue fell onto the ground.

And for the first time, she gazed at him with terror.

He had been used. He should have seen it coming for a mile. He should have heeded to Scorpius' premonitions. Oh poor old Scorp, always so sensible and so overlooked. If only.

\- Death. Sacrifice. Soul. Scorpius. Horcrux. The real Locket, she has it. She's going to use him. Ministry. It's going to be the ministry. Oh the boy, Delphi had a point, he could have been one of us but he would never be. A pity. Only a moment until the rest come and finish him off-

Raising his wand as the woman before him finally ousted him out of her thoughts, his green eyes gazed at her with shock, horror and indignation upon realisation. A flash of green light, sickening green light, emanated from his wand as he uttered the forbidden words: Avada Kedavra. A feeling of pure hatred coursed through his veins. It was a desire to kill, to murder. He felt a searing sensation tear through his body and, summoning all the willpower he possessed, he strove to keep himself whole and intact.

Then a thud. This time, it felt heavier.

He gazed around the room, the fog finally clearing. He tore off his mask. There were four other bodies.

Everyone else had to die too.

Green flashed after green flashed after green. Life after life after life was thrust away from the mortal realm.

He felt nothing.

It was strange. According to his father, there would always be a twinge of remorse accompanied with killing. That was simply how humans were wired. Then again, his father was - in many ways - a paragon of human virtue that could never really understand how some individuals worked. He knew he shouldn't venture into that realm and yet he couldn't help but admit that there was definitely a thrill in taking these lives, low lives, worthless lives, people better off dead than alive because really, what was the point of them being alive anyway apart from to inflict misery on others whilst convincing themselves they were on noble crusade?

He had hesitated in answering Delphi's inquiry about whether he would be prepared to kill. Now he had a more definite response.

And he was going to give her precisely that.

Whispering a few incantations, he set the place off to a blazing inferno, donned his Invisibility Cloak and tossed the fake Locket into the fire, heading for the exit.

There was no time for panicking - and that was probably the sole reason Albus wasn't panicking. He needed to go straight to the Ministry in order to salvage the life of Scorpius Malfoy, who, from the glimpses he saw within Euphemia Rowle's mind, was in deep trouble. Thomas and the rest would be able to handle Lestrange and the others. His mind was a blur, his surroundings were also a blur, but his intent was sharp. His sole focus was stopping Delphi.

And he knew exactly where to find her.

* * *

 

Thomas MacLaggen had received message after message from Albus Potter, which was really starting to elicit consternation. First the guy had asked for reinforcements at the Rowle's unplottable Manor and then suddenly he didn't need it anymore, said that he had taken care of everything. Then Albus told them stopping Rodolphus Lestrange's attack was of prime importance.

He didn't need Albus to spell out the need to mobilise the entire Auror department. He had received the message and relayed the information to Harry Potter, the head Auror himself. An impending conflict was coming for them, whether they were ready or not.

He hoped his friend - because they were friends right? - would be okay.

"MacLaggen, please come in and see me," Head Auror Harry Potter called on him. There was a hint of agitation in the man's voice; his own son was dawdling in the face of danger right now.

"Mr. Potter," Thomas greeted the man with a nod.

"The whole Auror department has just been informed and the message is now being spread to all civil servants working for the Ministry. We're all preparing for the incoming assault," Harry briefed him. "Do we have any findings on the numbers?"

"As our previous investigations have indicated, the Sons of Walpurgis have a network of around 200 witches and wizards around the world. That said, the number within England was unspecified," Thomas noted. "Around 30 individuals across continental Europe have been extradited so far, however. A few over here have been arrested too."

"And my son... is he okay?"

Thomas bit his lip. In truth he had no idea. Harry's voice was shaking. The man was obvious worried.

"He... he broke into the Rowles' place and took care of things there. He's heading off to save his friend Scorpius. As far as I know, he's okay."

"I'm glad they're okay again, really, them growing distant was a hard hit on my son," Harry mentioned abruptly. "You're probably right, my son's never been one to struggle in this sort of stuff... hard to deny that he's quite capable" - there was a hint of pride right there - "and yet I still worry. There's something... something not right about him these days. Then again, it's normal for a parent to worry for their child, right?"

"Yes, I can imagine," Thomas concurred. It was strange to suddenly become the confidant of the Head Auror in terms of familial issues but stranger things have happened in life.

"I just hope he turns out alright, as his father, that's all..."

* * *

 

He was somewhere and simultaneously nowhere, suspended in existence, pulled in all directions. Gravity had lost all its influence, as did matter itself, time no longer seemed linear, for he did not know when and where, could not grasp them as concrete concepts anymore- all things were in a state of flux. What was it in that TS Eliot poem? Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past. By Merlin he was a geek, Albus was, has and will always be right on that. He had no idea where he was or what the heck was going on and the first notion that enters his mind is a motherfucking poem by a motherfucking muggle author in the early 20th century. How typical, Albus would have teased. This is so you, Rose would have commented sardonically, and exactly why I fell for you. Oh Rose! Where would she be in this obscure actuality?

In truth, he could not remember a thing about the moments passed. It was hidden beneath a veil. Only figments in distant time past were revealed. Perhaps they will return, perhaps not. Perhaps he needed more time.

Then he heard her voice. It had long eluded him. For years, he strove to recall it as it slipped irrevocably from his memory. It was so calming, so liberating, so comforting. Made him feel like a newborn all over again.

"Mother," he wanted to say. Yet no words came out. Speech eluded him as well.

It was faint, but he heard a response. She was closing in, perhaps. He'd like to think so.

This is the way the world ends, as TS Eliot would remark, not with a bang but with a whimper.

He raced through the stacks of the Department of Mysteries, making his way to the atrium. There was scant time to waste. In the process, he had petrified a couple of security guards who attempted to obstruct his way ("Sir! These areas are strictly closed to visitors for now. Yes, even for those from the Auror Department. We're acting on orders, Sir," they had insisted), though he also remembered to diligently wipe his presence from their memories. Unfortunate but there was no time to negotiate.

He was closing in on them. It was in his intuition.

And then -

"Avada Kedavra!"

It hit him.

Nothing happened.

It was to no avail.

A lack of killing intent on his opponent's part them.

Furious, he turned around to see a masked figure. It was a young man - not Lestrange. But it meant his men had arrived.

There was no time, no time at all.

Yet there were moments to spare for his inexplicable sense of rage as he fired an emerald stream of light back at the young man - boy? now that he thought about it, the voice sounded awfully young, but he can't think about it, dwell about it, there was no time for guilt, no time at all - and the corpse collided with the cold marble floor.

He was almost there.

* * *

 

"Uncle Harry, is Scorpius okay? Please tell me he's okay?" Rose begged over the phone, causing Harry's heart to wince. "Please, please, please... I must see him, I can't lose him now, I can't!"

There was no reply on the other side, only a recorded voice message imploring the caller to leave behind a note.

Where was everybody?

Her husband had not returned from his afternoon tea and he had promised her he would be home by 4. He promised her they'd have dinner together and she had it all planned. They would make their favourite salmon with sour sauce together and then as they prepared for a snug movie night, she would inform him of her pregnancy and his impending fatherhood. It would have been such a great night.

Instead, she was eating cold instant noodles alone.

Her phone range.

"Rose!"

"Mother?"

"Oh Rose! Please stay safe, secure your apartment and don't come out until I give you a call. It's going to be a hectic night and I wan't you to be safe-"

"Just what is going on?! Is Scorpius okay?-"

"I don't have much time Rose, so much to prepare - but please, please, please stay safe. The Sons of Walpurgis are planning on wrecking havoc and the Ministry is doing the best to stop them..."

"I see. I-"

"Hear me Rose?"

"Yes, yes."

"Okay goodbye."

"Mum, I'm-"

But it was too late.


	5. Chapter 5

James got off work early today and so did his wife, courtesy to an emergency warning from the Ministry of Magic. They knew instantaneously what it was about and so proceeded to bolt their doors, cast the safety charms, and wait out the night.

Nigel rushed towards them from his lego set (he had been constructing two towers) and away from their doting house elf Mimsy (who Claire inherited from her family), hugging their legs. He was shaking. "Mimsy said there's going to be trouble tonight."

"Mimsy is not wrong," Claire said as she scooped Nigel up in her arms, clutching him tightly, "But everything will be okay. I promise."

"I'm scared, mummy, daddy," the boy murmured.

"No matter what happens, mummy and daddy will do everything to protect you... and your sister," James reassured the boy.

"Sister?"

"Yes Nigel, you're going to get a sister!"

"Can we name her Elmer?" Nigel's eyes brightened instantly. 3-year-olds possess the peculiar ability to snap out of reveries of fear and dread and into states of wonderment. "Uncle Albus said Elmer is a cool name and I agree."

"For fuck's sake-"

"Language, James!" Claire chided.

"For fuck's sake!" Nigel repeated gleefully. "For fuck's sake! For fuck's sake!"

"Look at what you've done." Claire glared at him murderously.

"You know what, I still have some ice cream in the fridge and leftover brownies so I'm going to make dessert for you guys..." James suggested as he promptly scuttled away.

Gazing at his wife and son playing in the distance, James prayed to whatever higher being from above that everything would turn out alright. Even if everything wasn't, he knew that he would die protecting them.

* * *

 

The Minister of Magic paced around her office. She was surrounded by her closest advisers, including Harry Potter himself. (Nevertheless, her husband was at home, with Hugo and Lily.) Contemplating on this situation, bordering on crisis, she wondered just how long it would last. The Aurors had captured a couple of neo-Death Eaters already, but there were still many on the loose. And according to multiple sources one large force was headed towards the Ministry-

"Minister! They're already here! They're attacking the Department of Mysteries! We're going to need reinforcements!" An Auror, Cynthia Lang, burst into the room, panting.

"I'm on it; I'll confront them myself," Harry Potter declared. "I'll take some Aurors with me, Hermione."

"Meanwhile, I'll stay here and manage the co-ordination," Hermione concurred.

* * *

 

_I love you._

_Value yourself just as much as I do._

_You're the first person I've ever loved._

_I looked into my future and not a single path doesn't involve you._

Were these all lies? Rage scorching through his interior, Albus wondered. Between them, how much of it was genuine? Was she simply using him all this time, the gullible son of the vaunted Harry Potter, the cocksure Auror who assumed he could dispatch everything with ease? She - the Dark Lady, not Dark Lord - was hiding right beneath his nose, beneath his blankets, the deceptive wretch, the seemingly sweet and perfect girlfriend, the woman he thought he would share the rest of his life with - perhaps she really was a caricatural mask carved over a dangerous enigma, as Scorpius once put it long, long time ago - and someone who would drag him down with her. Falling, falling, falling...

He should have seen it coming. Love blinds, as wise men and women have asserted many times, through personal or vicarious or observational experiences. Yet humans never learn. Individuals have fallen for far less.

The sweet scent of her hair, her daring, electric blue eyes, her slender waist and dashing romanticism - it's more than he can take! Was he mad? Perhaps he had long been driven there, without his own permission or awareness. The descent, how her small words of encouragement, magical tuitions, infiltrated his psyche, poisoned his character, warped him into a different creature.

But no matter! She had to be stopped.

The Sons of Walpurgis were still in their nascent stage, held together by a charismatic leader and common grievances. The latter could be mediated through ideological deradicalisation, amelioration of marginalisation and the arrest of criminal elements. As for the former, to deal with the serpent, you need to decapitate its head, the same way Neville Longbottom dispatched Nagini. Even with a hydra, it starts with decapitation - then you burn its neck until nothing can grow out of it. If the trials and tribulations failed to neutralise the Sons, Albus planned on doing away with them himself. One by one. Perhaps it's better to start earlier.

So much for their future, so much for their love, so much for all the sweet words, romantic nights, memories. To banish the shadow and embrace the light, the terrible, bright, warped light of justice, that was the only way, to-

Scorpius.

It was Scorpius, the mope of messy blond hair, dead in the centre circle surrounded by foul ancient runes.

And Delphi chanting, flickering her wand back and forth, engrossed in her rituals, too immersed in it all to notice him.

Scorpius' lifeless grey eyes, stormy as tumultuous oceans, met his.

Scorpius was dead.

Dead.

It was his own fault.

His own damned fault!

She must have somehow leveraged him to get to Scorpius.

And the locket. That was his fault too. It was being charmed as whisks of spells swirled around it.

Forcing himself to remember the gruesome details, Albus hurled his mind back to the afternoon when they exchanged illicit information about Horcruxes and when he - bless his curious mind - perused through the pages in an attempt to understand the foul craft of magic. She was charming the object to receive her split soul - and the ritual was nearing its end. Any moment now, it would be too late for him to stop her. He had to do it now.

What to do?

With dread, he knew there was only one way.

So long, farewell. Duplicitousness needed to meet its end and there was no way she would have accepted another life with him, where they were both normal people and unconcerned with the turmoils of this world. Like that would ever happen.

"Avada Kedavra," Albus whispered, pointing his wand at her. At that moment, he loved her and hated her, but he hated himself even more. The green struck her just as a silvery whisk emerged from the tip of her wand, just before she would permanently encase her soul within the Locket of Merlin. She had just enough time to turn around and discover the source of the attack.

Albus thought he may have seen her mouth something. Why. She seemed to be asking him, why.

Her heart stopped beating, Albus could feel her being ripped away from the mortal world as she fell to the ground, sleeping so peacefully. Perhaps in death, she would be able to find the peace she never could in lif-

A tug. Sharp pain coursing through his veins, he was being lifted in the air and gravitating towards the Locket. It was hungry, it was greedy, it was furious. Promised a portion of a soul, it was denied. Yet the charmed object, steeped with curses, needed to receive something, needed to satiate its demands. And it had the perfect target.

The ensuing sensation was worse than the Cruciatus curse ten times over, every bone and fiber and sinew of his bodies felt torn, ripped apart, mutilated. Unable to resist, unable to hold the agony inside, Albus screamed and screeched, then fell on to the ground, twisting and turning like a harpooned whale. Helplessly, he saw a silvery whisk leave his body and lodge itself right into the Locket of Merlin, which proceeded to shake furiously, causing the whole atrium to reverberate. A hollowness spread through him, he felt strangely light and numb after the passing of the sharp pain - or maybe it was the mere fact that he could no longer sense it.

Panting, sweating, palpitating, he crawled towards the corpse of Scorpius Malfoy.

It was not a face he would ever forget, so lifeless, so dead, so blank and soulless. His former best friend, his first friend in Hogwarts, the boy he had shared so many joyful memories with. Their first time on the Hogwarts Express with Scorpius. All the chocolate frogs, jelly beans, pumpkin tarts, and just listening to Scorpius talk, being the ginormous geek he is, about his favourite array of muggle literature. Treasure Island, the Little Prince, the Secret Garden, A Thousand And One Nights... The smell of candy and innocence brimming in the air, the feeling of excitement, Scorpius's completely unwarranted optimism, Scorpius being a dork, Scorpius laughing... That time when they first got drunk together and failed spectacularly to evade the survey of the Bloody Baron. That time when he cheered so hard for Scorpius when the guy finally caught the snitch during Quidditch, fourth-year.

Tears inundated his face as he wept, wept for what a pathetic, terrible friend he has been, what a terribly blind person he was and what a failure of an Auror he was.

Just how could he face Rose after this? And the rest of his family?

The sound of footsteps approaching cut his mourning short. He grabbed the Locket, wearing it around his neck and donned his Invisibility Cloak. Now he was truly undetectable.

There were stunned faces as the Sons gathered and faltered around their deceased leader. The possibility that she may not succeeded never quite occurred to them. They began panicking, unsure of what to do. Combined with the fact that there was no easy way for him to die thanks to the accursed manipulations of Delphi on the Locket, it was the perfect time for him to strike.

Person after person perished in the pandemonium, flocks of headless chicken, the lot of them became.

It was almost too easy.

It made him feel a little better, like their deaths were compensating for Scorpius' death and his own self-hatred.

* * *

 

His Aurors had finally managed to bind Rodolphus Lestrange and the neo-Death Eaters that accompanied the man. Wands confiscated, they were tied up and ready to be shipped straight to Azkaban.

Harry Potter sighed.

"No more attackers in sight," a colleague of his - Marsha - had informed him via their communicators.

It was finally ending.

Out of the blue, Thomas MacLaggen came rushing towards him on a broomstick. The guy came straight from the path that lead to the Atrium. "Sir, I believe you need to see what happened down there!"

* * *

 

Stepping on the cobbled streets, Albus let the cool air of an ordinary London night calm his raging mind. Needless to say, success eluded him. It was still too much for him process, the pain, the guilt, the twists and turns. He needed to be somewhere, to see someone, anyone that can make him feel less wretched.

Rose was out of the question; he did not want to elaborate what happened to Scorpius. Shame and guilt would have overwhelmed him. Lily was with Hugo and Uncle Ron, the latter of which would definitely sniff out something wrong. Not Thomas, not Cynthia, not Isadora, not Don, not any of his Auror colleagues. Most definitely not his father - or mother, or Aunt Hermione.

That left only James and Claire, hence why he stood outside their door. They had casted an array of protective spells around it for security purposes, but the doorbell was still functioning.

He rang.

James huddled close with his wife and son, as they read bedtime stories together. Their son had insisted on Winnie the Pooh, for some inexplicable reason, and they had begrudgingly complied. As the began narrating about Heffalumps and Woozles, however, the doorbell started ringing.

"Dad? Is it a good or bad person?" Nigel whispered quietly.

"We don't know," Claire answered. "I'll answer it. James, hide with Nigel in the kitchen and await my instructions-"

"No, I'll answer it. You're pregnant, remember?" James rebuffed her.

Normally, this would have been cause for another minor bickering incident but the potential graveness of the scenario induced a seriousness in them that little could have predicted. Wand drawn, Claire ushered little Nigel into the kitchen James headed towards the door.

"Albus?!"

His little brother's eyes were bloodshot, hair completely tussled, skin almost ghastly pale and face suffused in sweat.

Before James could say anything else, Albus crashed into him in a tight hug, shaking.

Claire thanked the heavens that it was her brother-in-law, who informed them that most of the threat has already been taken care of.

As they sat on the sofa, catching up to hot chocolate and marshmallows, little Nigel crawled into Albus's lap, being the most excitable inquisitor ever. Uncle, did you beat up the bad guys? How many bad guys? Are we safe now? Can I name my sister Elmer? Can you convince my parents to name her Elmer? What's your favourite colour? Why are you so tired? Do you want to stay with us tomorrow?

There were two things she noticed, for she had always been the more perceptive person in the relationship. One was that Albus was very good at evading questions. Two was that he kept reaching for the Locket around his neck, surreptitiously, unconsciously, reflexively. It seemed like a plain locket, perhaps the twitching was out of simple nervousness. It was a stressful night for the Aurors after all.

They invited Albus to stay at the guest room and use the shower and the man gratefully took the offer.

That night, she kissed goodnight to her son and cuddled to sleep with James.

After all these months, they could finally sleep soundly.

* * *

 

Albus did not bother to wake his brother and sister-in-law up as he was about to leave. He had left a note on his folded bedsheets thanking them for his hospitality, as well as informing them that his Auror days were at an end, asking James to pass the news to their father, and that he would no longer be in England.

Except his little nephew was up early.

"Uncle Alby?" The boy's eyes brightened.

"Nigel," he walked towards the boy and lifted him up, then proceeded to pat him on the head - rather awkwardly.

"Where you going?" The kid asked.

"Away, around the world, perhaps."

"Are you going to save the world?"

"Perhaps. We'll see."

"Ah! Okay! Will you send me postcards? I love postcards. Also, if you're ever in Lebanon, can you bring back some sweets there? I love Lebanese sweets. Dad brought them back once."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." He smiled at the boy because what else was he supposed to do to a sweet, innocent kid? "Now, be a good kid, don't wake your parents and goodbye."

"I'll see you!" Nigel piped.

"See you." Albus waved as he passed through the threshold, out into the world, the cold and open world.

* * *

 

"I'm sorry Rosie," her father had awoken her with a call, "but I need you in your mother's office, right now."

Rose had cried herself to sleep that night, plagued with emptiness and unease. She had seen the news - muggle news - of explosions around London, presumed to be terrorist attacks by the BBC, but, reality, she already knew it was the Sons of Walpurgis. She was alone, without her husband by her side.

When she reached there, she was greeted by similarly silent and stoney faces. The once greatly vaunted Harry Potter looked so pale and so visibly shaken that she thought he might collapse. Thomas MacLaggen, serial arrogant jackass from Hogwarts, looked befuddled and about to puke. Her mother's brows were furrowed, thinking hard. James and Claire were virtually in tears.

"We're so sorry Rose," Hermione said as she pulled her daughter into a hug.

"It's Scorpius isn't it?" A quiet whisper.

Hermione nodded.

"I'm so sorry to tell you this Rose, but Scorpius... your husband... he's a casualty..." Hermione tried to steady herself but could not quite finish the sentence.

"i know, I know..." Rose felt a lump on her throat. There were no tears left to cry anymore. Her hands wandered their way to her belly, unwittingly, she began cradling it. "There's also something else I need to tell you guys, I'm..."

* * *

 

"I hate inform you of this, Harry, but your son is - as of now - a wanted criminal -"

Harry dreaded these words. He knew it would happen since yesterday evening, when in the atrium of the Department of Mysteries lay more than a dozen dead bodies that were otherwise in perfect disposition, something that can only be achieved by that one Unforgivable Curse. Added to that were the corpses of his fiancee and best friend, lying prostrate in an ominous circle surrounded by ancient runes, rune that, as further inspection confirmed, were needed to initiate something foul.

There was one very obvious suspect.

And the fact that James rang him, panicking in the morning, informing him of Albus's decision to leave the Aurors and England, did not reassure him.

And yet - yet - Albus was still his son. The real circumstances of what happened remain shrouded in mystery. No one knew who was who, who was involved, who was guilty... All that remained were deaths - so many of them - and a trail of obscure clues rife to misinterpretation. The Ministry had declared confidentiality on the specifics that occurred at the heart of yesterday. The public knew that the core of the Sons of Walpurgis were neutralised, their supporters arrested and the threat largely eliminated, but they knew little else. Truth to be told, neither did Harry and he was the head of the Auror Department. All he could do was speculate alongside the Minister of Magic.

"-what happened yesterday, Harry, was - and I do not say this without any evidence, you must know - an attempt at making a Horcrux. And by the looks of it, a successful one-"

Harry's blood went cold. But there was no way, it could not have been-

"-Albus Potter is the prime suspect. I'm-"

"This doesn't make any sense! Hermione, be reasonable, there's no way he would have-"

"Harry, I'd hate it for this to be true as much as you but there are indeed clues-"

"He's-"

"Remember when he told us the new Dark Lord plans to make a Horcrux-"

"My son is not a Dar-"

"I'm not saying he is!"

"Well you implied he was!"

"That's what the evidence suggested, but for all we know-"

A knock from Thomas MacLaggen interrupted the emerging shouting match between them, who felt extremely disorientation for intruding upon what seemed a sensitive moment. "Head Auror Potter, Minister Granger, I... your divisions have uncovered invaluable detail."

"Go on," Hermione gestured.

"Delphi Riddle, Albus' fiance, was the daughter of You-Know-Who and Bellatrix Lestrange. Rodolphus Lestrange very willingly told us. He was spiteful, gleeful... We've put him through veritaserum and repeatedly questioned him that. His answer was always the same. And subsequently, the medical investigations team ran a blood test for her. There were traces in her genes leading back to the now extinct House of Gaunt. It appears that Albus' whole love life was a lie."

* * *

 

He was no longer whole; half of his soul was ripped from his body. Not quite a shell of a man, but no longer fully mortal. The irony was that it was never his intention. This was not something he sought for himself but a curse he took for someone else. He was probably the only man in the history of the Wizarding World to land himself with an accidental Horcrux.

Was it ever real, what happened between him and Delphi? Was it ever love? Searching through his memory, Albus strove to recall even a thread of genuine emotion, a thread of real romance. Nothing was spared from doubt, from the seemingly earnest confessions to the sweet kisses and words of comfort, from the passionate love-making to the hearty laughs. Was it ever real?

It had been a week since he fled England. With his Locket and Invisibility Cloak, he was practically untraceable through conventional means and that gave him some breathing space. There were a few rough encounters, he would not deny that, for a couple of French Aurors tried to corner him a few days ago occasion and yet they failed miserably. Their memories regarding him were delicately erased because he was delicate with this sort of stuff.

He could no longer manage sleep without any potions. The nightmares, the agonising dreams, they were all too much to bear. It wasn't just Delphi. There were times when it was a figure with ice blond hair. Not silver. Not Delphi. Grey stormy eyes, lifeless and accusatory. The shadow of Scorpius Malfoy would hang over him for eternity. Could things have been different? Could he have discovered Delphi's true nature in time and prevented Scorpius' death? Could he have induced a change of heart in Delphi and stirred her away from a life of crime? No - too unlikely. Speculations were all too painful. He did not want to dwell on how he could have prevented all of this, so all that was left was to run, run, run...

And the question on how to fix his soul.

He woke up in rage, his head boiling, his skin perspiring and his chest pounding. He felt himself shaking and hoisted himself out of bed.

Another day, another nameless motel in Eastern Europe.

He stood bare in front of the mirror and a familiar face glanced back. The green eyes - the ones that reminded him of his father - stared at him listlessly, devoid of purpose and desire. All that was left was the mechanistic shell of a man, powered on by adrenaline and rage and fear and grief. For weeks, he had shunned all news sources, not wanting to gain any insight whatsoever on how the rest of his family - particularly, Rose and Mum and Dad - were doing, what they thought about his disappearance, but words and whispers have a way of worming their way into his mind, courtesy to his accursed ability to read minds.

Potter's son gone rogue. The most dangerous man in England. The most dangerous man in Europe. The most wanted criminal in more than a decade. The mad second son of the Boy-Who-Lived.

If only those insipid voices could see him now: pathetic, alone and dithering on the brink of insanity, talking to himself, talking to imagined dead people. Hollow, magically and ... mortally unstoppable, but hollow. A useless puppet whose strings had been cut. Free from his master (or lover), he knew not what to do, not that he ever possessed the ability to operate autonomously anyway.

There was a knock on his door; he reached for his wand.

"Room service," a cheery voice called from the outside.

"Come in," he shouted at her.

The maid appeared rather flustered to see him topless. Frowning, he closed his eyes and strove to confirm the identity of the speaker. Nothing of note, no one of threat... - hang on, there was something.

"Nice try, Cynthia," he noted drily. "Almost had me fooled."

Yawning, he walked towards the coffee machine.

"We have this place surrounded, Albus," she warned, transfiguring back to her self, brown her tied into a tight bun and wand out.

"And?"

"Thomas, Isadora and Don are all outside, our old team. We're all here-"

"Presumably to capture me and throw me into Azkaban? No thank you. And don't lie to me, you guys brought more than 4 people... Romanian Aurors, is that it?" He questioned as he sipped coffee.

"Look Albus, it doesn't have to be this way. You'll get a free trial and-"

"How much do you know?"

"Enough."

"Define enough. What? That I killed Delphi, who, by the way, was my fiance because it's fucked up like that, Euphemia Rowle and many of the neo-Death Eaters. Is that enough to warrant an arrest? Perhaps. Though there's technically an argument of self-defense-"

"Albus, you were meant to incapacitate them so they could be trialed and sent to Azkaban, you know, like what we were taught in Auror training," Thomas said as he walked in the room.

Albus shrugged. What would once have bothered him no longer seemed to make him bat an eye. "So what? You tell me how easily it is to incapacitate a crowd of dark wizards and witches hell bent on murdering you."

"You have issues."

"I agree with Thomas."

"I'm thrilled at all of your realisations but leave a man in peace. It's 8 am in the morning."

"Albus, stop dithering around!"

"Thomas, I don't care what our instructions were, we're capturing him by any means necessary-"

She fired a disarming spell, which was blocked by him. Rapid firings of spells ensued. The room became a whirlwind of coloured beams. The sounds of shattered glass were everywhere.

Thomas was panicking. "No disturbances, no attracting too much attention from muggles, no buildings collapsing-"

"Too late," Albus uttered, wand pointing upwards.

And the ceiling shattered among them.

* * *

 

Head Auror Harry Potter was examined the most recent mission report. It was not good news. It was a remote mission in Ireland, the usual deal with organised gangs. Cynthia Lang, a rising star in the Auror department, someone who served alongside Albus... She had indirectly resulted in the deaths of 100 muggles by rushing to save one muggle child. Now he was perusing recommendation after recommendation, all advising on her temporary suspension.

It had really gotten her, her failure to retrieve Albus Potter. It had gotten to all of them. Ever since the incident in Romania, when Albus had escaped the collapsed building, going undetected again, Cynthia seemed bent on a redemptive mission. It seemed that her failure to save her collegue had translated into a fierce desire to do no wrong at all.

The rest of the old team, it appeared, was no better. Thomas would not speak of their older days and, after a promotion, cut off ties with the rest of them. Isadora, after a long period of contemplation, resigned and joined the Department of Mysteries as a researcher. Don had resigned too, having decided to work in retail in Diagon Alley - a change of environment. The full details of Albus's acts, the full scope of the Sons of Walpurgis' activities, were kept from public record, sealed away into the past.

And Harry Potter himself, for a brief moment, withdrew from public life, teetering on the brink of becoming a recluse. He could not bear, his heart pained, to contemplate about his second son. Albus Severus Potter, named after two of the bravest wizards he had known, his - as much as he would never admit it - dearest son, who had been so close to him, so eager to follow his footsteps, who had so much potential to do so much good. What had happened?

Perhaps one can say that it all started with her, but it did not fully explain the subsequent events, the mass killings, the (reported) insanity, the - the... Horcrux. Hermione had a theory that Delphi intended to make a Horcrux and Albus had halted her through an act of murder, which, in the process, involved the transferral of his onto the object instead, an aberration to the usual ritual. But still, something had inexplicably changed in the boy... man. It was palpable, everyone could see it. She had moulded him to her own image, he had (subconsciously) resisted and in so doing, became deformed in the mind, screwing himself, perverting himself. Perhaps it was shame, shame that caused him to flee, not merely desire to avoid jail time.

Guilt coursed through him: what if he could have stopped his son? Pulled him back from the abyss?

It took a long time for him to smile again, even if the pain would never go away. Ginny, though initially just as downcast as him, started recovering after the birth of James' daughter, whom they decided to name Andromeda. She had the cheekiest giggles, without a single worry in the world. Her smile was so wide that it made Ginny smile too.

In time, things would recover.

* * *

 

Rose cradled her infant son Terrence to sleep, watching his unperturbed expressions with a sense of serenity. She felt an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness.

He would never get to know his father; she winced with a tinge of sadness. But he would get the love of two parents combined in her. And the help of her extended family.

Draco Malfoy had been unexpectedly helpful, offering to look after little Terrence whenever Rose went to work as the editor of a sports magazine. It was some form of company and consolation for a man who had lost so much already. James and Claire were offering her parenting tips and suggesting playdates between Terrence and Andromeda already. Her parents were there emotionally for her all the time. And her brother, bless him, was trying so hard to knit his own onesie for her baby son.

She could never forgive Albus. As much as her mind told her that it was not his fault, her heart, the same heart that beats with love for her deceased husband, could never forgive him for his blindness. It was his blindness that cost Terrence his father, his own best friend.

* * *

 

Lily shook her head as she slammed the door.

It had been a very bad breakup. She had seem it coming in ages and yet it still hurt. He had been drinking heavily and began consuming a strange array of addictive substances. It was bad. He had been on a downward spiral ever since he quit his job as an Auror. His stint in retail lasted only a few months, when the drugs slowly eroded his ability to work properly, resulting in his firing. The string of abusive expletives and volatile behavior towards her became more and more commonplace. He was clearly in a state of depression and yet she, being no professional psychiatrist, merely an apperentice healer at St. Mungo's, knew little on how to help. She tried to recommend therapy to him and yet he eventually lost the willpower to go regularly. Then one day, after a particularly nasty row, both of them called it quits.

These were the times when she kind of wished her other brother was still around. He always knew how to cheer her up like that - and on how to terrorise her exes shitless. James had his humor, but he was far too (justifiably) invested in fatherhood at this point.

Oh Albus...

She had no idea where her brother went, only that one mission to retrieve him turned out to be an abject failure. She didn't even know the specific details of what exactly happened that night at the Department of Mysteries. Don, in one of his sober and less volatile moments, insisted he didn't know much either, only that Albus committed more than two dozen homicides and broken 16 magical laws. The whole affair was hushed up and, with the threat of the Sons of Walpurgis eradicated, England was mostly at peace again.

A peace that her brother would have no part in.

* * *

 

It had been three years. He had traversed across the sands of the Sahara, interacted with clandestine djinns; forayed into Japan, aiding elderly witches and wizards on curse-breaking; saved the daughter of a Siberian aristocrat, earning a ton of cash at the same time; paid a quick, albeit secretive, visit to Lawrence in America, with the two smoking joint under the night sky near Ilvermorny before he bade goodbye (perhaps forever); aided the Amazonian natives in banishing a demon; delved into the secretive lair of the Parisian underground network. And now in Marrakesh, after another session of gambling, he felt so exhausted, overwhelmed. All these years, he tried to banish the pain, shame and remorse of the past to the back of his mind. All these years, they haunted his dreams.

To diffuse them, he had tried to keep himself as occupied as possible. The results varied, but it was good money. If Scorpius were here now, he would have snorted and called Albus out for basically being a mercenary, which was probably true.

All the time, the Locket of Merlin weighed heavily around his neck. It was a dead-end; there was no way out. The only way to fix his soul was to repent. He had poured over thousands of pages of literature and that was the only solution that seemed to work. And yet could he? Could he ever regret ending her life?

Perhaps he could. It was still all too confusing. It pained him to think about her, it shamed him that he had once so nakedly prostrated himself and his feelings in front of the woman who was the daughter of his father's worst nemesis - and who was, in all fairness, probably no better. Did he event want to feel remorse? He loved her back then; a part of him would still love the woman he thought she was, the one coated by all the sweet lies and deceptions. He even - in his more delirious moments now - entertained the notion that he could have changed her mind through their. But there was no way she would have longed him back. Not even a single second.

Killing was always his wrong, his mother would chastise him. Killing solves nothing, Scorpius would lecture him. Killing ruins your own soul, his father would gravely warn him.

The sound of cards shuffling seemed like the heavens above deciding his fate. His opponent had hummed nonchalantly when he received his selection of cards. Albus smirked. This was something he had gotten used to.

"10 Galleons." The man uttered shortly after the flop.

Albus obliged and did the same.

The man added another 10 upon the revelation of the first card. And another 10 for the second.

He looked positively enraged when he was bested. Still, he suppressed his temper and betted another 5 Galleons. Not used to losing, Albus concluded with amusement. His displeasure rose even further when Albus's bluffing succeeded in robbing him of another 40 Galleons. The psychological tactics, the way people responded to things in situations such as these, it was all too predictable by now.

When Albus received a poor round of cards, he folded and left the table. The crucial lesson in life was to know when to fold, when to retreat and back off from a fight you cannot win. That much his past experiences have taught him.

After all, what was his affair with Delphi destined to be anything but doomed? It dragged him down into the depths of hell, deformed him, ruined him, wasted away his capacity for love. To fall, falling, fallen... and then what next?

And then what next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup! Consider it done! The ending is depressing as hell. It's listed as a tragedy. I told you so.
> 
> BUT, I might write a sequel haha ... who knows?
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter - and this short fic in general! - in the reviews!
> 
> UPDATE: Sequel in the works! 
> 
> I've also written a similar next-gen themed fiction (but with more Scorpius Malfoy and a snarkier Albus Potter and a mildly more light-hearted atmosphere) called "Far From Home" - which I'll post as soon as possible! Here's the summary: 
> 
> Albus Severus Potter gets sent back in time during the worst period possible: during his dad's sixth year at Hogwarts. Forced to disguise himself as the recently disappeared Harry Potter, can he survive long enough to find a way back home and limit the various alterations in history? In the meantime hilarity (and horror) ensues as Harry Potter finds himself in the future.


End file.
